£Tky  of  MiScrJg* 


Logical  se*^ 


BL  2710  .S747  H66  1844 
Hooker,  Herman,  1802-1865. 
The  philosophy  of  unbelief 
in  morals  and  religion,  as 


RECOMMENDATIONS. 


Nov.  20th,  1843. 
The  publishers  have  great  pleasure  in  offering  to  the  public,  the  fol- 
lowing notices,  and  extracts  from  notices,  of  this  work,The  Philosophy  of 
Unbelief,  (or  "Popular  Infidelity,")  and  feel  assured,  that  the  well  known 
character  of  the  sources  from  which  they  come,  will  secure  for  them  all 
the  attention  and  credit  which  can  be  desired. 

POPULAR  INFIDELITY.     By  the   Rev.   Herman    Hooker,  M.  A. 

Vol.  5,  Library  of  Christian  Knowledge. 

When,  in  our  first  volume,  we  took  notice  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker's 
"  Portion  of  the  Soul,"  we  expressed  the  hope,  that,  from  the  golden 
vein  thus  opened,  we  should  have  other  and  richer  specimens — and  we 
ventured  to  predict,  that,  the  more  it  should  be  worked,  the  finer  would 
be  the  ingot.  We  are  proud  to  record  our  predictions.  In  the  present 
volume  our  most  golden  dreams  are  more  than  realized.  It  is  a  book  of 
an  age  ;  and  we  will  say  of  a  better  age — "  specimen  melioris  aevi."  Ift 
shall  be  taken  down,  in  the  dark,  from  the  same  shelf  on  which  the  wri- 
tings of  South,  Taylor,  Barrow,  Boyle,  Bates,  and  How,  repose  in  glory 
unsurpassed  of  earth ;  and  shall  be  replaced  again,  when  read,  by  the 
most  ardent  lover  of  them  all,  as  worthy  of  the  high  companionship.  We 
know  what  we  have  said,  and  we  challenge  doubters  to  the  proof. 

It  is  the  object  of  the  author  to  unmask  that  secret  infidelity  of  the  heart, 
of  which  St.  Paul  gives  admonition,  in  his  epistle  to  the  Hebrews — 
"  Take  heed,  brethren,  lest  there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil  heart  of  unbe- 
lief, in  departing  from  the  living  God" — and  he  has  well  accomplished  it. 
His  pen  seems  an  Ithuriel's  spear,  to  strip  the  subtle  fraud,  which  he  pur- 
sues with  singular  skill,  of  all  its  multiplied  disguises.  His  page  teems 
with  illustrations,  the  rarest,  the  aptest,  and  the  most  beautiful,  of  his 
important  theme.  It  is  impossible,  plain  as  the  truths  are  which  he 
speaks,  to  be  offended  with  him,  from  the  pure  benevolence  which  is  felt 
to  be  his  prompter ;  and,  such  the  vein  of  keen,  but  half  repressed  and 
silent  humour  which  pervades  the  book,  that,  once  taken  up,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  lay  it  down  until  it  is  finished.  We  began  to  mark  the  passages 
which,  for  the  thought  or  the  expression,  struck  us,  as  we  read,  by  turn- 
ing down  the  leaf;  and  the  volume  lies  before  us,  increased  by  half  its 
thickness.  To  review  it,  as  it  deserves,  is  not  within  the  compass  of 
our  craft.  Not  to  commend  it  to  universal  notice,  would  be  to  do  our 
readers  an  unpardonable  injustice.  There  was  great  want  of  such  a 
book,  which,  by  its  engaging  character,  should  tempt  men  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  themselves — which  should  expose  the  vanity  and  reck- 
lessness with  which  many,  "  who  profess  and  call  themselves  Christians," 
are  running  the  giddy  round  of  self-delusion  and  srlf-dependence — which 
should  bring  home  the  thoughts  of  men  to  God  and  their  own  hearts;  and 


2  RECOMMENDATIONS. 

induce  them,  in  the  noise  and  bustle  of  this  restless  age,  to  commune 
with  themselves,  in  their  own  chamber,  and  be  still.  Such  a  book  is  here 
furnished— unpretending  and  artless,  yet  sagacious,  powerful  and  per- 
suasive—as fearless  as  the  Baptist,  yet  with  the  Evangelist's  gentleness 
and  meekness— deep,  searching  and  thorough,  yet  clear  and  intelligible 
to  the  simplest  reader— wearying  none  with  its-  minuteness  or  prolixity, 
offending  none  with  its  abruptness  or  severity,  delightful  to  all  for  its 
ease,  its  perspicuity  and  its  amenity. — Missionary. 


It  would  be  far  exceeding  our  limits  to  expatiate  on  the  character  of 
the  age,  or  to  show  by  an  analysis  of  Mr.  Hooker's  work,  how  skillfully 
and  eloquently  he  has  aimed  to  arrest  its  pernicious  tendencies.  The 
"Popular  Infidelity"  as  well  as  the  "  Portion  of  the  Soul."  is  a  work  emi- 
nently adapted  to  the  age  ;  and  if  we  have  any  fault  to  find  with  the  au- 
thor, it  is  that  he  does  not  himself  view  it  in  that  light;  that  he  writes 
professedly  for  a  class,  instead  of  challenging  attention  to  the  work 
which  he  is  really  accomplishing,  of  writing  for  his  age,  and  thus  speak- 
ing in  that  loftier  tone  which  the  reformer  is  authorised  to  assume.  In- 
fidelity in  its  more  subtle  forms,  and  such  as  Mr.  Hooker  has  described, 
is,  we  fear,  a  characteristic  of  the  age ;  few  pens  have  revealed  more 
clearly  than  his  its  philosophy  and  impiety,  and  our  only  regret  is,  that 
he  has  not  brought  the  actors  and  the  actions  of  the  Christian  world  side 
by  side  with  the  original  which  he  so  vividly  conceives,  and  thus  given 
a  popular  estimate  of  their  deformity. 

Again,  reminding  the  reader,  that  the  infidelity  of  which  Mr.  Hooker 
treats  is  to  be  found  not  in  the  outward  ranks  of  avowed  unbelievers, 
but  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  hearts  of  professed  Christians,  we  beg 
leave  earnestly  to  recommend  the  work  to  general  perusal.  It  is  written' 
in  a  pure  strain  of  Christian  philosophy,  and  should  find  its  way  to  the- 
closets  and  affections  of  all  those  "  who  profess  and  call  themselves 
Christians. — New    York  Churchman. 

There  is  an  originality  in  the  conception  of  "  Popular  Infidelity,"  an 
intellectual  superiority  in  the  execution  to  which  few  books  of  the  pre- 
sent day  can  lay  claim. 

On  the  whole  we  think  the  treatise  on  Popular  Infidelity  one  of  the 
best  practical  works  that  has  appeared  for  some  time  ;  and  we  would 
confidently  recommend  it  to  the  attention  of  all  who  wish  to  become 
intimately  acquainted  with  their  own  character.  It  is  eminently  calcu- 
lated to  promote  the  cause  of  deep,  genuine,  and  enlightened  piety,  and 
will  suffer  nothing,  to  say  the  very  least,  in  a  comparison  with  the  pop<- 
ulai  and  useful  works  of  Phillip.  We  have  seldom  seen  a  work  which 
so  accurately  analyses  the  feelings  and  principles  of  the  human  heart, 
lays  bare  the  secret  springs  of  human  action,  and  presents^  view  one's 
rral  at  If. — Episcopal  Recorder. 

Popular  Infidelity,  or  Philosophy  of  Unbelief.  By  the  Rev. 
Herman  Hooker,  M.  A. — This  is  the  fifth  volume  of  the  Library  of 
Christian  Knowledge,  and  is  an  original  work  of  the  accomplished  ed- 
itor of  that  valuable  series.  All  (-lasses  of  Christians  may  find  food 
for  reflection  in  the  very  important  considerations  suggested  by  the  au- 
thor. The  work  is  not,  as  might  besupposed,  adefence  of  the  outworks 
of  Christianity  against  the  scepticism  of  the  professed  [nfidel.  But  it  is 
a  most  able  and  eloquent  attack  upon  the  practical  infidelity  of  professed 


THE 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  UNBELIEF 


IN 


MORALS    AND    RELIGION, 

AS  DISCOVERABLE  IN  THE  FAITH  AND  CHARACTER 
OF  MEN. 

BY  THE  REV.  HERMAN'HOOKER,  M.  A. 


There  is  a  peculiar  evidence  of  divine  truth  which  you  never  see— see  what  else 
you  will— if  you  judge  of  it  merely  by  the  intellect ;  much  less,  if  the  intellect  be 
swayed  by  adverse  affections.  But  when  the  repugnance  of  the  heart  is  overcome, 
we  have  this  evidence  in  the  substance,  the  relish  of  the  truth  ;  we  see  a  conspicu- 
ous excellency  in  it,  which  approves  it  to  the  mind,  and  confirms  it  by  a  happy  ex- 
perience of  its  power  and  sweetness.  *****  It  is  a  most  specious  deception, 
that  which  enables  you  to  disbelieve  all  you  will,  with  the  pretence  of  faith,  and  the 
-colour  of  believing  all  you  should. 


HARTFORD: 
S.    ANDRUS    AND    SON. 

1844. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1836,  by 

W.  Marshall  &  Co. 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of 

Pennsylvania. 


iTEREOTYPED     BY     L.    JOHNSON, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


■ 
TBJBOj 


PREFACE. 


Numbers  live  in  the  neglect  of  religion,  without  know- 
ing or  considering  the  cause  of  their  indifference  to  it. 
They  profess  to  receive  the  Bible  as  the  word  of  God, 
and  if  they  do  so,  their  conduct  is  inexplicable  and  op- 
posed to  all  reason  and  analogy.  There  is,  therefore, 
ground  for  presuming  they  are  in  error  on  this  point ; 
and  if  they  are  so,  it  is  indispensable  that  they  should  be 
undeceived,  as  a  first  step  to  a  correct  understanding 
of  their  spiritual  condition.  This  incongruity  between 
the  accredited  faith  and  the  conduct  of  men  is  so  com- 
mon, and  in  degrees  so  various,  that  it  is  to  be  feared  we 
are  ceasing  to  regard  it  as  an  exception  to  a  general  law— 
as  something  monstrous  in  practice — and  are  satisfying 
ourselves  with  the  virtue  of  acknowledging  it,  or  per- 
haps of  declaiming  against  it,  while  we  take  not  the 
trouble  to  inquire  into  the  reason  and  enormity  of  it. 

This  inquiry  the  author  has  endeavoured  to  conduct — 
with  good  design  he  knows — with  what  good  effect  he 
leaves  for  the  reader  to  judge.     As  the  discussion  ad 
vances,  much  is  said,  referring  to  the  varieties  of  human 
1*  5 


VI  PREFACE. 

character,  and  to  the  secret  operations  and  tendencies  of 
unbelief,  suitable  to  be  reflected  on  by  devout  believers, 
and  yet  not  ultimately,  it  is  thought,  impertinent  to  the 
steady  design  of  the  work. 

Having  shown,  or  presumed,  that  numbers  may  justly 
be  denominated  infidels,  who  do  not  so  consider  them- 
selves, and  are  not  generally  so  considered  by  others, 
notice  is  taken  of  the  confirmation  which  this  view 
receives  from  the  Scriptures,  and  of  the  adaptation  of 
the  doctrines  of  Christianity  to  the  known  nature  and 
wants  of  man,  and  to  the  ends  which  it  proposes  to 
effect,  and  in  the  accomplishment  of  which  man  is  made, 
what  he  is  not  and  cannot  be  in  any  other  way,  both 
blessed  and  deserving  to  be  so. 

The  inference,  then,  which  is  more  or  less  disclosed 
in  every  branch  of  the  subject,  is,  that  if  our  views  of 
Christianity  do  not  renovate  our  natures  and  sway  our 
conduct,  it  is  because  they  are  delusory,  the  mere  allow- 
ances which  an  evil  heart  has  made  in  its  own  vindica- 
tion, and  in  which  it  loses  sight  of  itself  and  of  God 
together,  while  looking  as  at  an  image  of  its  own  cre- 
ation, and  which  it  kneels  to  and  worships  as  having 
qualities  that  are  in  accordance  with  itself — which  yet 
itself  has  imparted,  or  rather  are  itself  again. 

Philadelphia,  June  28,  1836. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Vanity  of  man  separate  from  his  immortality — The  chances  of 
being  finally  lost— Plans  and  hopes  of  safety— Strange  con- 
trariety of  faith  and  practice— Deep  delusion— The  art  and 
success  of  spiritual  foes— Infidelity  not  readily  owned— Per- 
sons chargeable  with  it  in  practice— The  Reader— His  can- 
dour—His interest  in  the  subject— Its  difficulty  no  discou- 
ragement  • 

CHAPTER  II. 

Moral  character  and  speculative  belief— Man  consists  of  a  dou- 
ble nature,  half  angel  and  half  beast— Natural  process  down- 
ward—Tendency to  be  less  and  less  spiritual  in  the  affec- 
tions and  the  understanding— Views  of  moral  excellence, 
how  acquired— Standard  of  comparison— Moral  attributes  of 
the  Deity— Danger  of  misconceiving  them— Proneness  to 
error  from  the  corruption  of  human  nature— From  the  limited 
faculties  of  the  mind— A  case  supposed— Diffidence  of  our 
capacity  to  judge  correctly  of  moral  qualities,  the  truest  wis- 
dom  

CHAPTER  III. 

Various  modes  in  which  human  character  is  disclosed — Preva- 
lence of  hypocrisy — Its  tendency  to  self-deception  and  infi- 
delity— Morality  of  secular  men  a  proof  of  their  infidelity — 
Devotees  of  fashion — Dignity  of  their  vocation — Their  irreli- 
gion — Their  freedom  from  the  affectation  of  goodness — Their 
errors— The  best  virtues  of  unconverted  men  seem  not  to 

7 


13 


24 


S  CONTENTS. 

Pago 
acknowledge  a  God — They  infer  the  greatest  misconception  of 
personal  character — They  centre  in  creatures,  and  afford  the 
clearest  evidence  of  a  faithless  heart — Peculiar  depravity  of 
such  persons  —  Their  sinning  without  a  motive  —  Things 
which  try  men's  souls — Their  complaints  and  their  preten- 
sions illustrate  their  infidelity — Their  self-importance  and 
misery — Contrast  of  their  reasoning  and  conduct  with  the 
suggestions  of  faith — Happiness  of  a  mind  resting  on  God.. .     40 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Moral  worth  of  incidental  actions  and  opinions — Their  pecu- 
liarity with  reference  to  the  objects  of  faith — Proper  estimate 
of  worldly  interests — Singularity  of  religious  indecision — Its 
contrariety  to  reason  and  analogy — Casual  devotion — Its  ab- 
surdity— Its  action  considered  as  the  cause  and  fruit  of  infi- 
delity— All  true  faith  considered  as  necessarily  influential  in 
proportion  to  the  value  of  its  object — Prevalent  inattention  to 
the  Scriptures — Connexion  between  faith  and  knowledge — 
Infidelity  of  those  who  give  but  a  casual  attention  to  religion 
— Their  hope — Their  conduct  contrasted  with  their  faith  and 
caution  in  business  affairs — Their  singular  inconsistency — 
The  faith  and  practice  of  a  nominal  believer  compared  with 
those  of  a  professed  infidel — What  there  is  to  choose  between 
them — Religious  pretenders — Their  liability  to  self-delusion 
from  the  facility  with  which  they  gain  credit 81 

CHAPTER  V. 

Error  in  estimating  our  own  qualities  a  cause  of  our  miscon- 
ceiving the  divine  perfections — Obstacles  to  correct  views  of 
ourselves — Readiness  with  which  men  confess  the  evil  of 
their  hearts — Process  by  which  men  are  reconciled  to  evil 
ways — Causes  which  perpetuate  this  delusion — Their  unob- 
served operation  —  Tendency  of  worldly  companions  and 
amusements  to  foster  infidelity — This  danger  inferred  from 
our  mental  constitution — Presumption  of  those  who  disre- 
gard it — Delicacy  of  religious  sentiment — Its  easy  decay — 
Peril  of  virtue  and  faith  where  the  influence  of  religion  is  dis- 


CONTENTS.  9 

Pago 

couraged — Great  changes  in  moral  character  occurring  with- 
out our  notice — Blindness  to  the  infidelity  consequent  upon 
them — Difficulty  of  breaking  from  worldly  society — Things 
implied  in  our  attachment  to  it — The  prospect  presented  to 
the  mind— Worldliness— Practical  atheism— Peculiar  dan- 
gers of  youth — Whether  religion  is  an  easy  practice — What 
is  essential  to  make  it  so — Its  nature — Its  requisitions  agree- 
able to  the  truest  philosophy 113 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Want  of  self-knowledge  a  cause  of  error  in  religion — Self-love 
— Examples  of  its  deceptive  operation — Its  opposition  to  cor- 
rect views  of  truth — Perils  of  the  state  to  which  it  carries  the 
min(l — Difficulty  of  understanding  this  state,  and  of  escaping 
from  it — Errors  that  grow  out  of  it — Its  incompatibility  with 
moral  improvement  —  Two  weighty  inferences  —  Sense  of 
guilt  always  slight  in  habitual  sins — Great  sins  rendered  sin- 
less in  our  eyes  by  a  continuance  in  them — Secret  sins — The 
peculiar  danger  of  them — Their  effect  on  the  moral  percep- 
tions—  The  false  security  and  infidelity  which  insensibly 
spring  from  them — The  folly  of  deciding  on  our  character 
from  the  opinion  of  others — Deceptive  appearances — Prayer 
of  a  Roman  worshipper — Great  inconsistencies  in  practice — 
Instruction  drawn  from  the  conduct  of  the  thief  and  the  rob- 
ber— The  moral  decency  of  their  example  compared  with 
that  of  others — Effect  of  sinning  on  the  judgment — Errors  in 
one  respect  leading  to  error  in  all  others — Reflections 139 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Influence  of  character  on  belief — Direct  application  of  the  rea- 
soning in  the  preceding  chapter — Analogies  between  what 
men  think  of  themselves  and  what  they  think  of  others — 
These  considered  as  the  cause  and  proof  of  infidelity — Indif- 
ference of  men  to  religion  not  accidental,  but  the  result  of 
settled  opinions — Mental  processes  by  which  these  opinions 
are  acquired — The  deductions  of  sense  taken  for  those  of  rea- 
son— Reason  held  in  the  service  of  sense — Singular  love  of 


10  CONTENTS. 

Page 
the  world — Our  own  depravity  approved  when  it  goes  to 
excess  in  one  direction,  yet  hated  under  other  and  lower  ma- 
nifestations— Idolatry — Analogy  of  its  forms  to  human  cha- 
racter— Condition  of  the  heart — Its  changes  great,  yet  imper- 
ceptible— Nature,  not  counsel,  taken  for  a  guide  in  spiritual 
perplexity — Its  inventions — Its  resentment  of  the  truth — Its 
proneness  to  clothe  God  in  its  own  likeness — Spiritual  idol- 
atry— Analogies  bearing  on  the  general  subject — True  basis 
of  practical  infidelity 170 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Singularities  in  human  conduct — Importance  of  knowing  our- 
selves— Proneness  to  possess  God  with  our  own  likeness — 
Causes  of  delusion  in  our  judgment  of  him — Application  of 
the  subject  to  the  reader — Reasons  for  distrusting  his  own 
opinions  shown  by  various  analogies — Continued  argument 
with  him — Separate  responsibility  of  the  head  and  heart — 
Peculiar  evidence  of  divine  truth — Difficulties  in  the  way  of 
believing — When  they  are  insuperable — How  overcome — 
Misconceptions  of  the  gospel — Necessity  of  divine  grace — 
Questions  and  troubles  about  human  ability  considered — Of- 
fice and  sacrifice  of  Christ,  how  estimated — Characteristics 
of  the  times — Needful  despair — Proofs  of  infidelity 207 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Man  treated  as  a  rational  being  in  all  the  divine  dispensations — 
No  mysteries  of  feeling  in  regard  to  the  doctrines  of  grace — 
Reason  a  competent  judge  of  things  necessary  to  salvation — 
Hinderances  to  its  right  exercise — Our  difficulty  with  religion 
our  fault — Contrariety  of  the  sentiments  and  practice  of 
Christ  to  human  nature  a  ground  of  unbelief — Our  incapa- 
city to  comprehend  and  believe  the  gospel — How  acquired — 
How  to  be  removed — Divine  grace  attainable  when  truly 
desired — Acts  of  holy  obedience  free  and  rational — Dispensa- 
tions of  grace  encouraging  in  every  scriptural  view  of  them — 
Power  of  truth — Misconceptions  of  it  the  same  thing  as  infi- 
delity— Testimony  of  the  Scriptures — Striking  guilt  of  sin- 
ners in  likening  God  to  themselves 236 


CONTENTS.  11 

CHAPTER  X. 

Page 

Inferences  growing  out  of  or  consistent  with  the  principles  of 
the  preceding  discussion — Doctrines  of  religion  viewed  in 
relation  to  our  spiritual  necessities — Mode  of  justification — 
Due  esteem  of  divine  grace — Operation  of  faith — Its  effects 
rational — Agency  of  the  Spirit — His  fruits  contrasted  with 
the  works  of  the  flesh — Just  deductions  of  reason — Contra- 
riety of  Christianity  to  our  corrupt  nature  a  proof  of  its  divine 
origin — Reason  competent  to  judge  of  this — The  assistance 
it  gives  to  faith — Obligation  it  imposes  on  us  to  believe 
strongly — Justness  of  our  thoughts  of  God  depending  on  the 
purity  of  our  hearts — Conceptions  of  holy  men  contrasted 
with  those  of  the  wicked — Necessity  of  a  light  that  tries  and 
purifies 260 


POPULAR  INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Vanity  of  man  separate  from  his  immortality— The  chances  of  being 
finally  lost-Plans  and  hopes  of  safety-Strange  contrariety  of 
faith  and  practice-Deep  delusion— The  art  and  success  of  spi- 
ritual foes-Infidelity  not  readily  owned-Persons  chargeable 
with  it  in  practice-The  Reader-His  candour-His  interest  in 
the  subject— Its  difficulty  no  discouragement. 

The  transient  nature  of  his  existence,  as  well  as 
the  little  he  can  know  and  do  at  best,  stamps  an  in- 
expressible meanness  on  man,  if  we  contemplate  him 
aside  from  the  hope  of  immortality.  But  regarding 
him  as  destined  to  live  beyond  the  present  scene,  to 
live  in  bliss  or  wo,  in  glory  or  dishonour,  according 
to  the  character  of  his  agency  here,  every  thing  about 
him  seems  important.  Indeed,  the  danger  is,  that 
our  respect  for  him  as  a  being  of  this  high  destiny, 
may  hinder  our  being  duly  shocked  with  his  de- 
generacy, when  he  voluntarily  forsakes  the  end  of 


13 


14  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

his  existence,  and  assumes  a  character,  which,  had  it 
been  his  by  creation,  would  only  awaken  surprise 
and  distrust  of  the  wisdom  of  his  Creator.  We 
should,  in  that  case,  see  nothing  in  it  for  admiration, 
but  every  thing  for  wonder  and  dissatisfaction.  But, 
mean  as  it  would  then  appear,  we  now  seem  to  be 
little  offended  that  the  multitude  live  as  without 
knowledge  or  concern  for  their  immortality.  The 
hope  they  have  of  living  for  ever,  and  of  answering 
ends  suitable  to  so  noble  a  design,  serves,  it  may 
be,  to  raise  them  in  their  own  estimation,  but  has  no 
control  over  their  pursuits ;  and  looking  to  their  im- 
providence and  their  passion  for  sensible  things,  we 
see  little  prospect  of  their  recovery  to  spiritual  life. 
This,  however,  is  not  the  worst  of  their  condition. 
They  have  lost  all  right  perceptions  of  their  own 
character  and  of  the  objects  which  they  must  under- 
stand and  love  as  the  appointed  means  of  renewal, 
and  yet  follow  their  convictions,  such  as  they  are, 
without  doubting  that  they  are  right;  so  that  the 
chief  danger  that  they  will  fall  short  of  their  calling, 
seems  to  arise  from  their  disposition  Ho  order  their 
own  steps,'  and  to  confide  in  their  own  views,  with- 
out making  due  allowance  for  their  nature  and  its 
proneness  to  misconception. 

Almost  every  one  has  a  plan  or  hope  of  being 
saved,   which    supposes   his   character   to   be   very 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  15 

different  from  what  it  really  is.  We  never  find 
any  one  living  in  the  quiet  expectation  of  being 
for  ever  depraved  and  miserable,  but  the  great 
majority  are  living  quietly  in  a  practice  that  tends 
directly  and  strongly  to  this  result.  They  continue 
in  a  practice  which  they  pretend  not  to  justify 
as  innocent,  and  can  hardly  be  said  to  consider 
as  sinful,  yet  a  practice  which  has  confessedly 
deceived  thousands,  and  in  which  thousands  have 
confessedly  perished.  Still,  they  apprehend  no  evil, 
and  cherish  a  secret  expectation  that  all  is  to  turn 
out  well  with  them  in  the  end.  They  have  no  idea 
of  things  as  they  are;  they  judge  not  of  themselves 
as  of  others ;  they  are  in  a  deep  sleep,  and  the  most 
that  can  often  be  done,  is  to  keep  them  wakeful 
enough  for  worldly  dreams;  and  did  they  but  think 
them  dreams,  they  would  soon  perceive  themselves 
poor  and  destitute,  without  any  reasonable  concern 
or  action  for  relief.  But  they  do  not  so  think ;  the 
god  of  this  world  surrounds  them  with  a  false  efful- 
gence, which  confuses  their  vision,  and  gives  a  decep- 
tive appearance  to  every  object,  and  the  true  light 
which  clears  the  reason  and  the  affections  ' shines 
not  unto  them.'  Like  some  creatures  we  know, 
they  seem  to  see  best  through  a  medium  which  is 
dark  to  nobler  beings,  and  that  object  which  should 
give  light  and  joy  is  without  glory  to  them,  lulling 


16  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

them  to  slumber,  and  justly  making  them  a  spectacle 
and  wonder  to  all  others. 

But  the  rest  they  have,  is  but  a  sleeping  storm;  the 
security  they  feel,  is  but  blindness  to  danger;  the 
freedom  they  claim,  is  but  a  slavery  grown  easy  and 
natural  to  them ;  the  victory  they  are  ready  to  arro- 
gate to  themselves,  is  but  the  triumph  of  their  foes, 
in  which  they  are  permitted  to  participate,  only  to 
complete  it.  Their  prison  and  chains  are  not  fully 
prepared,  and  they  are  encouraged  to  assume  the 
honours  and  the  airs  of  victors,  only  to  finish  the 
deception,  and  to  make  them  the  more  loyal  to  their 
masters.  Thus  their  spiritual  enemies  improve 
every  advantage,  while  they  make  no  resistance,  and 
have  no  warfare  as  they  view  it.  They  have  served 
Satan  so  well  that  his  service  is  freedom,  and  no 
stoop  for  them,  so  long  as  they  are  not  required  to 
call  him  master;  and,  as  it  is  his  service,  not  his  title, 
which  he  wishes  them  to  own,  they  have  no  disa- 
greement. Power  of  darkness  and  delusion,  he  first 
darkens  the  mind  to  delude  it,  and  then  perpetuates 
the  spell  by  setting  it  off  for  a  fancy-piece  of  light, 
flattering  the  subject  of  it  with  marks  of  reason  and 
excellence,  which  he  indulges  him  to  call  his  own. 

Nothing  short  of  the  prevalence  of  some  delusion, 
deeper  and  more  influential  than  men  are  generally 
aware  of,  is  sufficient  to  account  for  this  indifference 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  17 

to  spiritual  concerns.  Writers  may  ascribe  it  to 
infidelity,  but  the  bare  evidence  of  the  Christian 
system  does  not  affect  it:  that  system  is  professedly 
believed  by  the  generality  of  those  who  manifest 
this  indifference.  They  disclaim  infidelity  as  a 
crime,  as  a  baseless  fabric,  and  are  shocked  at  the 
bare  name  of'  it  as  applied  to  them.  Indeed,  if  you 
could  persuade  them  that  they  are  infidels,  they 
would  not  feel  safe  for  a  moment,  and  their  first 
inquiry  would  not  be  for  truth  and  evidence,  but  for 
a  way  of  escape  from  guilt.  But  they  have  always 
had  a  respect  for  the  Bible  as  an  inspired  book ;  the 
existence  of  a  Supreme  Being,  with  such  attributes 
and  purposes  as  it  ascribes  to  him,  they  have  never 
doubted :  and  they  are  not  now  to  be  convicted  of 
infidelity.  That  they  have  not  a  saving  belief  of 
these  truths  they  admit;  but  then  they  have  such  a 
belief  as  they  deem  respectful  to  them,  and  likely  to 
lead  on  to  it.  They  might,  perhaps,  be  convinced 
that  they  have  not  such  a  belief  as  deters  them  from 
sins  and  crimes  which  set  God  and  his  word  at 
defiance ;  still  they  insist  that  it  is  a  belief.  It  ap- 
pears to  have  little  or  no  influence  on  their  practice, 
still  they  regard  it  as  a  very  important  affair,  and 
would  not  part  with  it  on  any  account.  They  ac- 
knowledge their  accountability  and  sinfulness,  and, 
though  sinning  daily,  claim  that  they  are  less  daring, 
2* 


13  POPULAR    INFIDELIT1*. 

and  more  innocent  and  respectful,  than  those  who 
deny  both.  They  have  the  happy  way  of  resolving 
the  matter  so  that  they  keep  the  thing,  and  shun  the 
name  of  it.  It  is  satisfactory  to  them,  not  that  it 
has  any  reason  in  it;  not  that  it  proves  any  superior 
goodness  in  them;  not  indeed  that  it  restrains  them 
from  any  iniquity;  but  that  it  tallies  with  their 
household  notions  and  conceptions  of  the  beauty  of 
faith,  and  the  deformity  of  its  opposite. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  virtuous,  not  pious,  people, 
which  deserve  some  designation; — those,  who,  from 
a  natural  delicacy  of  their  physical  and  mental  struc- 
ture, run  virtuously  without  a  principle  of  action,  or 
a  rule  of  judgment,  exhibiting  the  most  attractive 
graces  of  thought  and  feeling,  responding  to  every 
call  of  sympathy  and  regard,  and  bearing  the  richest 
fruits,  which  yet  are  as  '  apples  of  gold  in  pictures 
of  silver  '  merely  representations  of  the  beautiful 
reality: — and  those,  who,  without  any  uncommon 
advantage  of  nature,  or  exemption  from  temptation, 
have  preserved  a  certain  health  and  harmony  of  ex- 
ercise in  their  moral  powers,  and  kept  themselves 
within  the  attraction  of  virtue,  its  colours  not  greatly 
changing  in  their  view,  arid  they,  though  captives  to 
the  powers  of  the  present  world,  yet  retaining  some 
freedom  of  the  spirit,  and  dwelling  in  a  kind  of  mid- 
heaven,  whence  they  look  down  with  a  conscious- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  19 

ness  of  superiority  to  the  rest  of  their  species  as 
needful  to  sustain  them  in  their  elevation,  as  it  is 
indicative  of  their  imperfection.  Thus  it  is  possible 
so  to  yield  the  heart  to  the  claims  of  justice  and 
humanity,  and  so  to  occupy  the  mind  with  ennobling 
objects  and  investigations,  as  to  preserve,  in  a  com- 
mendable degree,  the  freshness  of  the  moral  feelings. 
But  this  is  all  a  night-growth,  liable  to  perish  in  the 
morning;  a  painted  edifice,  outwardly  new  and  beau- 
tiful, while  its  timber  is  struck  with  decay,  and  will 
bend  and  break  with  the  storm.  A  discarding  of 
God  and  his  counsel,  self-reliance,  self-aggrandize- 
ment, atheism,  is  the  life  of  the  structure:  it  is  the 
heart  which  conveys  vigour  to  all  its  living  extremes. 
It  was  never  reared,  and  it  can  never  subsist,  with- 
out the  service  of  pride,  vanity,  a  love  of  promotion, 
and  the  praise  of  men;  and  these  do  not  more  cor- 
rupt than  enfeeble  every  thing  they  fashion  and 
control.  They  have  no  part  in  the  '  workmanship' 
of  God:1  they  do  not  so  much  as  seek  his  aid,  or 
acknowledge  him  in  any  of  their  doings. 

These  remarks  may  serve  to  characterize  great 
numbers  who  would  start  at  the  charge  of  infidelity; 
who  value  themselves  for  virtues,  which,  on  a  close 
inspection,  appear  to  infer  a  want  of  faith;  who,  to 
say  the  least,  live  in  the  habitual  neglect  of  religion, 
1  Eph.  ii.  10,  good  men  are  called  his  '  workmanship.' 


20  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

without  knowing  or  considering  the  ground  of  their 
indifference  to  it.  These  points  will,  in  course,  be 
the  subject  of  investigation. 

We  can  presume  on  no  ability  to  do  justice  to  our 
conceptions  of  the  subject  upon  which  we  are  enter- 
ing; much  less,  that  we  entertain  conceptions  wor- 
thy of  its  importance.  But  if  we  be  able  in  any 
measure  to  clear  the  way  of  the  reader,  and  start 
such  trains  of  thought  as,  when  pursued  out  and 
applied  with  the  faithfulness  of  an  honest  inquirer, 
shall  reconcile  him  to  a  just  view  of  his  condition, 
we  shall  have  no  fear  that  he  will  consider  his  time 
ill  spent,  though  the  chief  advantage  he  gains  should 
in  justice  be  accredited  to  himself.  More  than  this; 
if  he  shall  allow  to  us  the  credit  of  an  interest  in  his 
welfare,  and  deem  that  the  amiable,  and  a  sense  of 
duty  the  graver,  reason  of  our  inquiries,  we  will 
not  be  so  injurious  to  the  courtesy  of  such  judgment, 
as  to  suspect  that  slight  disappointments  may  deter 
him  from  pursuing  them,  while  there  is  a  possibility 
of  attaining  the  good  they  propose. 

If  he  has  duly  considered  what  others  are,  though 
he  has  not  so  duly  considered  what  he  is,  he  will 
not  forget  that  he  is  of  the  same  nature  with  them; 
nor  will  it  appear  a  thing  incredible  that  he  should 
be  convicted  of  faults  and  errors  in  his  estimate  of 
himself,  which,  if  they  be  more  refined  and  less 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  21 

palpable,  are  not  less  destructive  than  those  he  sees 
in  others.  Indeed,  should  he  prove  to  be  gravely 
criminal,  he  will  not  think  any  previous  suspicion  of 
it  an  impertinence,  or  consider  himself  as  wronged  by 
conviction,  but  only  favoured  with  a  discovery  which 
candour  and  interest  oblige  him  to  welcome  as  the 
dawning  of  8  better  mind,  a  coming  to  himself 
which  not  more  necessarily  precedes  all  right  rea- 
soning than  all  spiritual  excellence; — from  which  last 
he  may  have  gone  so  far,  that  the  loss  itself  is  not 
mourned,  while  the  miseries  of  it  are  vainly  felt  and 
deplored.  It  would  be  an  unjustifiable  aspersion, 
if  he  be  known  to  be  even  well  affected  towards 
himself,  to  suppose  he  would  quarrel  with  a  truth, 
or  shut  his  eyes  to  the  evidence  of  it,  when  it  could 
be  improved  to  his  own  exaltation,  and  to  the  fur- 
therance of  his  Creator's  will.  We  would  be  too 
jealous  of  the  honour  of  our  nature,  claiming  nothing 
for  its  goodness,  to  presume  him  thus  destitute  of  all 
decency  of  regard  for  himself,  and  for  the  divine 
authority  and  wisdom.  But  if  we  grant  him  to  be 
of  a  considering  humour,  not  ready  to  break  with 
his  Maker  for  eternity,  not  doubting  his  justice,  his 
goodness,  his  absolute  perfection,  and  still,  not  seeing 
them  as  realities,  not  affected  by  what  he  believes, 
or  rather,  is  apprehensive  of, — it  is  not  too  much  to 
expect,  it  is  the  lcost  that  can  with  civility  be  looked 


22  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

for,  that  he  will  see  he  cannot  with  any  show  of 
reason  vindicate  his  continuance  in  a  state  wherein 
he  blushes  to  own  himself  either  the  friend  or  the 
foe  of  God,  but  wishes  to  be  ranked  as  standing  on 
anomalous  and  neutral  ground;  for  this  would  be  but  a 
nonsuit  of  his  claims  to  any  other  than  a  brute  import- 
ance, since  it  is  only  when  we  are  without  reason 
that  we  can  be  without  character.  We  may  think 
we  feel  indifferent  to  an  object,  but  if  that  object  be 
one  of  incomparable  perfection  and  interest,  it  must 
have  claims  upon  our  highest  regard,  and,  when 
these  claims  are  enforced  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
inferior  objects  which  we  have  chosen  in  its  place, 
it  will  be  found,  that  not  to  have  loved  this  the 
noblest  and  best  of  all,  is  not  a  mere  worthless  indif- 
ference, but  the  cherishing  of  the  elements  of  an 
unappeasable  enmity  to  it.  It  is  not  more  clearly 
a  part  of  the  great  design  of  the  universe  that  all 
bodies  should  tend  to  a  common  centre,  than  it  is 
the  chief  design  of  rational  creatures  that  they  should 
tend  with  strongest  affection  to  the  greatest  and 
most  worthy  object  of  such  regard;  nor  is  this  law 
of  the  material  system  more  needful  and  proper  to 
its  destined  action,  than  that  of  spirits  to  their  safe 
and  rational  action,  while  both  alike  are  allowed  to 
attract  smaller  objects,  and  to  feel  their  attraction, 
yet  only  as  parts  of  a  whole,  and  in  pursuance  of  this 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  23 

their  chiefest  end.  Why,  therefore,  one  is  not  in 
love  with  this  object,  but  goes  counter  to  the  ordi- 
nance of  his  nature,  as  well  as  to  the  claims  and 
commands  of  Him  whose  claims  could  not  be  greater 
nor  his  commands  more  reasonable,  and  whose  wills 
concerning  us,  expressing  both  his  perfection  and 
intending  ours,  may  be  summed  up  in  one,  'be  ye 
perfect,  even  as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is 
perfect,'  enjoining  on  us  his  likeness  in  order  to 
our  participating  in  his  felicity, — is  a  question  that 
may  reasonably  claim  his  first  attention;  and  which, 
now  that  he  deems  it  an  unjustifiable  reflection  upon 
his  faith,  to  infer  that  he  denies  its  importance,  he 
should  be  presumed  to  approach  with  candour  and 
self-distrust,  and  as  caring  less  to  obtain  that  which 
he  cannot  keep,  than  to  possess  himself  of  that  good 
which  he  knows  he  cannot  lose. 


24  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Moral  character  and  speculative  belief — Man  consists  of  a  double 
nature,  half  angel  and  half  beast — Natural  process  downward — 
Tendency  to  be  less  and  less  spiritual  in  the  affections  and  the 
understanding — Views  of  moral  excellence,  how  acquired — Stand- 
ard of  comparison — Moral  attributes  of  the  Deity — Danger  of 
misconceiving  them — Proneness  to  error  from  the  corruption  of 
human  nature — From  the  limited  faculties  of  the  mind — A  case 
supposed — Diffidence  of  our  capacity  to  judge  correctly  of  mora 
qualities,  the  truest  wisdom. 

It  was  stated  in  the  outset,  that  the  great  danger 
of  our  losing  the  chief  and  only  durable  good  arose 
principally  from  a  too  great  trust  in  our  own  judg- 
ment of  spiritual  things,  without  duly  considering 
the  influence  of  our  corrupt  nature  upon  the  per- 
ceptions and  decisions  of  the  mind.  The  operation 
of  moral  character  upon  speculative  belief,  though 
difficult  to  detect  in  particular  cases,  is  yet  in  some 
measure  understood  and  admitted  by  all.  Both  our 
sensibility  to  moral  qualities  and  our  perception  of 
them  may  change  and  decay  from  neglect,  or  be 
choked  and  overrun  by  the  growth  of  other  and 
opposing  principles.  "  Man,  as  he  consists  of  a 
double  nature,  '  flesh  and  spirit,'  so  is  he  placed  in 
a  middle  rank,  betwixt  an  angel,  which  is  a  spirit, 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  25 

and  a  beast,  which  is  flesh;  partaking  of  the  qualities 
and  performing  the  acts  of  both.  He  is  angelical  in 
his  understanding,  in  his  sensual  affections  bestial; 
and  to  which  of  these  he  most  inclineth  and  con- 
formeth  himself,  that  part  wins  more  of  the  other, 
and  gives  a  denomination  to  him:  so  as  he,  that  was 
before  half  angel  and  half  beast,  if  he  be  drowned  in 
sensuality,  hath  lost  the  angel,  and  is  become  a  beast; 
if  he  be  wholly  taken  up  with  heavenly  meditations, 
he  hath  quit  the  beast,  and  is  improved  angelical. 
It  is  hard  to  hold  an  equal  temper;  either  he  must 
degenerate  into  a  beast,  or  be  advanced  to  an  angel. 
Mere  reason  sufficiently  apprehends  the  difference 
of  the  condition."1  It  will  not,  perhaps,  be  doubted, 
it  is  so  evident  that  it  will  not  here  be  reasoned,  that 
the  process  in  every  man  is  naturally  downward,  to 
the  gratification  of  his  inferior  nature,  and  to  the 
love  and  pursuit  of  sensible  things.  As  the  conse- 
quence of  this,  it  is  equally  evident  that  he  does  not 
see  either  the  objects  of  sense  or  those  of  faith  in 
their  true  character.  He  is  in  the  case  of  the  blind 
man,  who,  when  asked  if  he  saw  aught,  was  sure  he 
saw  something,  which  yet  was  not  a  proper  sight, 
for  he  saw  '  men  as  trees.'  He  sees  wealth,  beauty, 
and  honour;  but  it  is  not  a  proper  sight,  because  he 
sees  not  all  about  them;  he  sees  them  not  as  a  snare, 

1  Bishop  Hall's  <  Select  Thoughts,'  No.  Ixii. 
3 


26  POPULAR   INFIDELITY, 

and  does  not  sanely  estimate  their  use  to  him.  He 
sees  the  pleasures  and  enticements  of  sense;  yet  it  is- 
a  question  whether  he  sees  them  or  no,  because  he 
sees  them  only  as  harmless  and  desirable:  there  is 
no  reason  in  the  sight  He  sees  all  temporal  goods; 
but  we  can  hardly  say  whether  he  has  a  sight  of 
them  or  no,  because  he  sees  them  not  as  they  are; 
he  sees  them  'as  trees  walking;'  he  does  not  see  the 
reason  and  beauty  of  them;  he  does  not  see  them  as 
beams  and  proofs  of  that  perfection  of  them,  which 
is  reserved  as  i  glory  to  be  revealed.'  But,  becoming 
less  and  less  spiritual  in  his  affections  and  under- 
standing, the  derangement  in  his  sight  of  spiritual 
objects  must  be  still  greater.  What  was  lovely  and 
tasteful  in  moral  excellence  gradually  disappears, 
and  the  very  virtues  comprised  in  it  are  for  the 
most  part  mean  and  spiritless  in  his  view:  still,  he 
reasons  about  them,  and  fully  confides  in  his  own 
decisions.  He  never  doubts  the  soundness  of  his 
views,  but  there  is  an  inconsistency  between  them 
and  his  feelings  and  conduct,  which  does  not  appear 
with  regard  to  any  other  subject.  If  we  can  'find 
the  cause  of  this,  all  difficulty  will  vanish,  and  we 
shall  be  able  to  account  for  much,  in  the  practice  of 
men,  which  seems  not  to  be  compatible  with  any  just 
appreciatiun  of  their  own  welfare,  or  of  the  charac- 
ter of  God;  much,  which  is  precisely  as, we  should 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  27 

suppose  it  would  be,  if  the  light  that  is  in  them  were 
indeed  darkness. 

We  would  not  be  understood  to  deny  that  men 
may  have  views  of  moral  excellence  much  purer 
than  their  practice;  but  it  is  certain  that  their  moral 
character  does  more  or  less  modify  their  views,  and, 
in  this  way,  involve  them  in  most  dangerous  errors. 
This  truth  may  be  discerned  in  the  very  process  by 
which  we  arrive  at  a  judgment  of  moral  qualities. 
Our  nearest  approaches  to  the  discovery  of  the  ex- 
cellence of  any  object  are  made  by  comparing  it 
with  other  objects,  which  are  more  or  less  excellent. 
In  such  a  comparison,  its  advantage,  or  disadvantage, 
is  the  more  visible,  for  the  brightness  or  obscurity 
of  those  with  which  it  is  contrasted.  Who,  for 
instance,  can  discover  a  single  colour  on  a  fabric  in 
which  all  colours  are  intermingled  ?  Who  can  have 
any  proper  ideas  of  degrees  in  benevolent  actions, 
unless  he  has  had,  or  witnessed  in  others,  an  exer- 
cise of  malevolence?  Who  can  declare  one  counte- 
nance more  beautiful  than  another,  if  he  has  not  in 
his  mind  some  standard  of  comeliness,  with  which 
to  compare  it  ?  It  is  thus  evident  that  we  must 
form  our  judgment  of  the  distinctive  excellence  of 
objects,  by  the  process  of  comparison. 

Let  us,  now,  consider  the  probable  effects  of  this 
process    upon   our   notions  of  the  moral  attributes 


28  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

of  God.  These  attributes  must  be  designated  by- 
words, commonly  used  and  understood.  Is  he  holy, 
just,  and  good  ?  If  these  terms  are  not  understood 
in  their  application  to  the  character  of  men,  we  shall 
understand  them  as  little,  when  they  are  applied  to 
God.  Our  notions  of  what  is  just  or  good  in  man 
will  enter  into  all  our  reasonings,  and  form  the  basis 
of  our  thoughts  concerning  what  is  just  or  good  in 
God.  The  same  is  true  of  all  his  moral  attributes. 
They  exist  in  him  without  defects;  in  man,  with  the 
blemishes  of  imperfection  and  guilt,  and  as  dim  sha- 
dows and  uncertain  semblances  of  the  divine  reality. 
But  the  dimness  and  the  uncertainty  are  all  his  own: 
nothing  can  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  God;  he  made 
man  in  his  own  image;  the  fountains  of  his  being 
were  all  pure  and  his  sight  was  perfect,  till  he  cor- 
rupted them  and  chose  his  darkness,  and  now  that 
abundant  light  is  come,  and  a  new  way  opened  for 
his  recovery  of  this  blessedness,  he  is  held  fully 
responsible  for  the  errors  of  his  judgment.  But 
while  he  remains  in  his  darkness,  and  has  not  the 
relish  of  his  blessedness,  what  errors  may  he  not 
commit,  associated  as  he  is  with  beings  of  universal 
and  acknowledged  imperfection — himself  naturally 
as  imperfect,  as  the  greatest  profligate  he  beholds. 
We  will  suppose  him  called  to  contemplate  the 
moral  perfections  of  God,  and  that  they  are  designated, 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  2f) 

as  they  must  be,  by  terms,  the  import  of  which  he 
has  learned  from  their  usage  among  men,  as  applied 
to  themselves.  In  proportion  as  the  acts  or  qualities 
in  himself  and  others  which  are  called  just  and 
good,  are  imperfect,  will  not  his  notions  of  God, 
formed  according  to  the  use  of  language  in  refer- 
ence to  such  acts  or  qualities,  be  inadequate  and 
unworthy?  If  he  believes,  and  doubtless  he  does, 
that  he  is  as  good  as  any  around  him,  and,  although 
imperfect  in  all  his  moral  exercises,  regards  himself 
with  complacency,  upon  what  principles  shall  we 
conclude,  that  he  will  be  likely  to  entertain,  in  these 
respects,  higher  views  of  God  than  of  himself  ? 

We  have  thus  far  considered  the  effects  of  this 
process,  as  if  man  had  no  temptations  or  promptings 
to  reason  otherwise  than  honestly  and  impartially 
on  the  subject,  and  on  this  admission,  we  see  no 
ground  for  inferring  that  his  conclusions  will  be  safe 
•and  correct.  But  when  we  come  to  make  proper 
•allowance  for  his  self-love,  his  ignorance,  his  pas- 
sions, his  false  interests,  there  is  no  chance  that  he 
will  be  either  impartial  or  correct  in  his  judgment. 
If  he  forms  and  cherishes  higher  views  of  the  divine 
excellence  than  of  his  own,  he  must  be  dissatisfied 
with  himself,  and  that  is  disagreeable  to  nature;  he 
must  also  live  in  perpetual  fear  of  the  divine  displea- 
sure, and  we  commonly  see  no  evidence  of  this  in  his 


30  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

conduct.     The  wickedest  men  are  often  the  most 
self-complacent  and  fearless,  and  they  must  either 
not  think  at  all  on  this  subject,  or  think  to  no  pur- 
pose.    Their  passions  have  become  such  reasoners, 
that  they  justify  their  own  indulgence.    An  argument 
in  favour  of  a  chosen  error,  which  would  once  have  put 
them  on  their  guard  as  being  fallacious,  is  now  sound 
and  convincing;  and,  as  they  falsely  estimate  their 
interests,  it  would  be  the  happiest,  the  best  con- 
trivance in  the  world,  if  they  could  have  every  thing 
in  their  pleasures  and  pursuits  as  it  now  is,  without 
disappointments,  and  with  the  approbation  of  God. 
If  they  could  have  the  matter  thus,  depraved  and 
unthankful  as  they  are,  they  would  have  no  self- 
reproaches,  and  no  more  shame  than  an  angel  that 
has  never  sinned.     They  would  eat,  drink,  and  in- 
dulge themselves,  without  a  thought  of  God;  they 
would  think  of  any  thing  more  than  him,  and  indeed, 
he  can  gain  their  attention  now,  only  by  his  terrors. 
He  lays  his  hand  upon  them,  and  they  tremble  and 
look  up,  but  no  sooner  is  it  removed  and  the  shock 
past,  than  he  is  forgotten.     This  shows  what  they 
think  of  sin,  and  what  bright  reasoners  they  must 
be  on  moral  excellence.     Their  passions,  and  inte- 
rests as  they  understand  them,  are  in  direct  conflict 
with  just  views  of  the  character  of  God,  and  to  sup- 
pose that  they  will  judge  impartially  in  this  case,  is 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  31 

to  give  them  credit  for  a  disinterestedness  which 
they  never  show  in  any  other,  and  which,  therefore, 
it  is  irrational  to  expect  they  will  show  in  this. 

Their  ignorance  also  renders  them  incompetent 
judges  of  the  right  or  wrong  of  the  divine  proceed- 
ings. But  they  never  think  of  this;  they  try  them 
by  their  own  standard  of  what  is  right  and  proper, 
with  as  much  confidence  as  they  would,  if  they 
knew  every  thing.  This  is  a  fruitful  source  of  error, 
and  of  disaffection  towards  the  character  of  God. 
According  to  this  rule  many  events  appear  to  them 
unjust  or  cruel,  and  such  as  they  confidently  believe 
they  should  not  have  permitted,  had  they  possessed 
the  control  of  them.  In  this  way,  they  easily  rise 
in  the  esteem  of  their  own  character;  they  impute 
faults  to  God  which  they  do  not  discover  in  them- 
selves, and  turn  his  counsellors  and  reprovers,  when- 
ever any  thing  crosses  their  wishes.  What  ought 
we  to  suppose  such  men  think  of  God,  especially 
when  it  is  no  secret  what  they  think  of  themselves  ? 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  they  are  not  alarmed  at  their 
condition?  Do  they  believe  in  the  true  God,  or 
have  they  created,  fancied  one,  who  needs  their 
advice,  or,  at  least,  is  in  favour  with  their  desires  ? 

From  the  limited  nature  of  his  faculties,  it  is 
also  clear  that  he,  who  does  not  submit  his  heart  and 
understanding  to  the  will  of  God,  in  full  reliance 


32  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

upon  the  wisdom  and  equity  of  all  his  dispensations, 
will  sometimes  fall  into  the  greatest  errors,  and  the 
most  confident  questioning  of  the  perfections  of  God. 
Suppose  he  witnesses  a  good  action — one  that  is  a 
certain  duty  in  the  instance  before  him,  which,  how- 
ever, in  a  little  time,  is  found  to  have  operated,  in  a 
way  that  could  not  be  foreseen,  injuriously  to  inte- 
rests more  extensive  and  important  than  those  which 
it  immediately  promoted,  he  cannot  still  doubt  that 
the  action  was  good,  and  it  might  have  been  good 
so  far  as  the  design  of  the  agent  is  to  be  considered; 
he  regarded  it  at  the  time  so  clearly  a  duty,  that 
the  neglect  of  it  would  have  been  thought  proof  of 
great  imperfection,  and,  if  it  be  supposed  that  an 
Omniscient  Being,  seeing  all  effects  in  their  causes, 
would  not  have  performed  such  an  act,  he  would, 
certainly,  have  been  thought  imperfect  and  criminal. 
Independent,  then,  of  any  influence  from  association 
with  depraved  beings,  if  he  has  not  that  confidence 
in  God  which  constrains  him  to  believe  that  what 
he  does,  though  it  be  apparently  evil  and  injurious,  is 
yet  necessarily  wise  and  good,  he  will  often  charge 
him  with  folly,  and  refuse  submission  to  his  will. 

When,  therefore,  we  connect  the  ignorance  of 
man  with  his  estrangement  from  God,  whose 
ways,  according  to  the  rule  by  which  so  ignorant  a 
being  determines  what  is  good,  will  often  appear  to 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  33 

be  evil,  and  consider  also,  that  he  is  associated  with 
beings  as  depraved  as  himself,  whose  virtues  consti- 
tute a  medium  of  deceitful  and  tarnished  lustre  with 
which  he  is  prone  to  clothe  all  invisible  agents,  can 
we  believe  that  he  will  form  correct  opinions  of  the 
moral  attributes  of  God  ?  Is  it  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  he  will  have  just  ideas;  will  so  abstract  himself 
from  the  imperfection  that  is  in,  and  around,  him,  as 
to  have  vivid  and  pure  conceptions  of  attributes  of 
which  he  can  have  no  notion,  except  as  he  compares 
them  with  such  feelings  within  him  as  correspond  to 
their  nature,  and  with  such  shadows  of  them  as  are 
fleeting  before  him?  If  he  could  not  learn  the 
height  and  dimensions,  the  beauty  and  costliness  of 
a  temple,  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  seen,  from 
surveying  its  ruins ;  if  he  could  not  conceive  pro- 
perly of  the  splendour  of  the  sun,  from  observing 
the  moon  which  reflects  his  light  so  dimly,  that, 
with  all  the  aid  of  surrounding  stars,  it  is  night  when 
he  is  absent,  how  shall  he  judge  of  that  'excellent 
glory'  which  comprises  and  excels  all  others,  by  the 
blemished  and  dying  lights  within  him — by  the  dust 
that  remains,  but  scarcely  glitters,  amidst,  the  ashes 
of  the  ruin  in  which  he  is  involved  ?  What  image 
will  he  frame  from  the  materials  before  him  ?  He 
hears  not  the  voice  of  God,  and  no  cloud,  no  symbol 
of  his  presence  and  glory,  rests  upon  the  mountains. 


34  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

Will  he  think  of  a  'golden  calf/  or  will  he  bow  to 
stocks  and  stones?  He  might  do  so,  if  education 
and  custom  had  not  taught  him  better.  He  must 
now  have  a  more  refined  and  specious  idolatry;  he 
must  have  in  speculation  and  profession  what  he 
calls  the  true  God ;  but  in  heart,  in  worship,  he  will 
have  images  without  number,  if  they  may  be  with- 
out name.  Even  as  he  estimates  the  character  of 
God,  he  makes  him  an  image,  a  being  not  such  as  he 
is,  but  such  as  he  would  have  him.  If  unrestrained 
by  prevailing  modes  of  belief  and  expression,  and 
unassisted  by  divine  revelation,  he  would  conceive 
of  God  as  loving  what  he  loves;  as  hating  what  he 
hates;  and  as  possessed  of  such  virtues,  and  only 
such,  as  he  possesses.  Having  never  seen  a  being 
of  sweater  excellence  than  himself,  he  would  form 
all  who  are  invisible,  in  his  own  image,  and  think 
of  them  only  as  propitious  to  his  own  cherished 
gratifications.  This  process  of  an  evil  heart,  by 
which  it  likens  all  things  to  itself;  this  tendency  to 
misconceive  all  truth  at  variance  with  his  propen- 
sities, no  education,  no  usage,  no  creed,  can  fully 
counteract.  He  takes  his  notions  of  the  perfection 
of  any  moral  quality,  from  that  form  of  it  in  which  it 
exists  in  his  own  mind;  and  this  individual  com- 
plexion, this  identity,  he  transfers  to  it,  when  he 
contemplates  it  in  the  character  of  God.     If  he  has 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  35 

wrong  notions  of  any  moral  quality  in  his  own  mind 
or  practice,  yet,  as  he  delights  to  cherish  them,  as 
they  are  a  part  of  himself,  and  the  best  he  has,  they 
will  prevail  in  his  conceptions  of  God,  in  whose 
attributes  he  is  so  sharp  to  discover  the  colours  of 
his  own  character.  There  is  no  glass  in  which  he 
will  not  see  himself;  no  moral  perfection  which  he 
will  not  blemish  with  his  likeness.  Hence  the 
difficulty  of  convincing  him  of  his  guilt ;  hence  his 
bold,  his  complacent  perseverance  in  the  beaten 
ways  of  transgression;  hence  his  dreams  of  pardon, 
his  venturing  on  the  mercy  of  God,  when  his  peril 
is  greatest,  and  his  sins  call  loudest  for  retribution. 
He  believes  indeed;  he  has  a  God  and  a  faith  in  him, 
but  it  is  something  worse  than  infidelity,  with  respect 
to  the  word  and  attributes  of  that  glorious  Being 
whom  it  aspires  to  honour;  it  not  only  discredits 
what  he  is,  and  what  he  says,  but  it  ascribes  to  him 
qualities  which  he  has  not,  and  which  would  bring 
him  clown  to  a  level  with  his  sinful  creatures.  It 
6  changes  his  truth  into  a  lie,  and  his  glory  into  an 
image  made  like  unto  corruptible  man,'  but  he  sees 
not  the  criminality  of  it;  he  gives  it  the  name  of 
reverent  service,  though  he  is  himself  too  irreverent, 
too  thoughtless,  to  know  what  he  has  done,  or, 
knowing,  to  feel  the  evil  of  it. 

It  is  surely  not  well  for  the  best  of  men  to  confide 


36  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

greatly  in  their  understanding  of  spiritual  excellence. 
Their  imperfections  will  cast  their  shadows  upon 
the  brightest  objects,  and  with  all  their  desire  to 
understand  them  aright,  with  their  greatest  readiness 
to  suspect  and  accuse  themselves,  they  cannot  attain 
to  this  perfection  ;  they  will  sometimes  greatly  dis- 
parage God  by  their  unworthy,  though  their  best, 
thoughts  of  him.  Under  pretence  of  celebrating 
one  of  his  perfections,  they  may  depress  and  wrong 
others,  and  make  them  repugnant  the  one  to  the 
other.  What  then  shall  be  thought  of  the  difficul- 
ties which  sinners  have  with  the  character  and 
dispensations  of  God?  What  shall  be  thought  of 
their  competence  as  judges  of  either?  What  con- 
cern should  they  have,  lest,  while  they  endeavour  to 
frame  a  consistent  notion  of  God,  they  leave  out  of 
it  every  thing  that  is  truly  a  perfection ;  and,  lest, 
through  their  proneness  to  make  their  conception  of 
him  agree  with  themselves,  they  cause  it  to  disagree 
with  him  ?  As  an  absolutely  perfect  Being,  he 
comprehends  in  himself  all  real  perfections,  without 
contradiction  or  repugnance,  and  they  can  neither 
add  to,  or  take  from,  him,  without  sullying  his  cha- 
racter, and  abstracting  from  it  less  or  more  of  that 
salutary  influence  which  it  is  adapted  to  exert  upon 
their  hearts.  It  is  suggested  by  all  they  know  of 
themselves   and    others,  and   most   consonant  with 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  37 

their  caution  in  other  cases,  that  they  should  be 
wary,  lest  they  speak  too  hastily  concerning  what 
he  does  ;  lest  they  magnify  the  greatness  of  his 
mercy  so  as  to  lose  sight  of  their  guilt  and  danger 
in  it,  or  make  it  exclude  other  attributes  which  are 
essential  to  his  perfection,  and  which  concern  them  not 
less  than  that  which  they  are  most  forward  to  extol. 
When  difficulty  with  him  occurs,  it  is  but  decent  and 
modest  to  defer  our  opinion;  it  is  stupid  and  arrogant 
not  to  suspect  and  inquire  whether  the  fault  be  not 
wholly  in  our  own  minds;  in  that  narrowness  which 
cannot  commodiously  entertain  the  boundless  perfec- 
tions of  the  Deity,  and  comprehend  their  points  of 
union,  or  their  union  which  completes  the  glory  of 
each;  in  that  indolence  which  declines  patient  in- 
vestigation and  prevents  us  from  doing  what  we  can, 
or  that  self-conceit  which  disposes  us  to  be  satisfied 
with  our  convictions,  right  or  wrong,  and  imposes  on 
lis  an  ability  of  doing  what  we  cannot,  of  understand- 
ing that  which  is  incomprehensible,  of  appreciating 
that  which  is  so  excellent  that  we  do  not  relish  it, 
and  could  not  even  bear  to  behold  it  aright. 

It  is  difficult  to  express  the  rashness  of  a  sinner, 

who  treads  confidently,  and  figures  largely,  on  this 

holy  ground:  more  difficult  to  conceive  that  he  can 

think  it  rational  to  confide  in  the  worthiness  and 

4 


38  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

adequacy  of  his  thoughts  of  God,  especially  if  they 
do  not  disaffect  him  with  himself  and  his  sins. 
There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  another  glory  of  the 
moon:  that  which  excels,  he  has  never  seen;  the  other 
is  but  a  reflection  of  it;  it  serves  indeed  to  relieve 
the  darkness  of  the  night,  but  is  not  sufficient  for 
the  purposes  of  the  day;  nothing  minute  can  be  seen 
in  it,  and  he,  who  should  attempt  to  frame  by  it  a 
nice  and  complicated  structure,  would  be  guilty  of 
great  presumption,  and  might  be  ruined,  if  not  by 
the  needless  expense,  yet  by  the  dangerous  action, 
of  it.  When  a  man  has  once  established  a  character 
for  holiness  and  virtue,  if  a  known  impostor  brings 
even  plausible  accusations  against  him,  and  endea- 
vours, not  without  argument,  and  with  great  appa- 
rent sincerity,  to  show  that  he  is  no  better  than  his 
corrupt  and  lawless  neighbours,  nobody  would  be- 
lieve him.  To  entertain  for  a  moment  such  testi- 
mony, would  not  only  be  esteemed  weak  and  un- 
charitable, but  a  just  ground  for  charging  us  with 
a  desire  to  believe  it,  or  a  likeness  to  the  character 
falsely  ascribed  to  the  innocent.  And  when  it  is 
considered  what  an  impostor  the  human  heart  is, 
what  sinners  experience  of  its  impositions  in  them- 
selves and  others,  and  what  inducements  they  have, 
or    rather    imagine    they    have,    to    extenuate    its 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  39 

wickedness,  or  shut  their  eyes  to  it,  (which  is  so 
great  that  none  but  God  can  know  it,)1  how  shall 
they  justify  it  to  their  reason,  or  make  their  con- 
duct consistent  with  the  rule  of  their  judgment  in 
other  cases,  when  they  arbitrarily  confide  in  their 
perception  and  appreciation  of  the  attributes  of  God ; 
in  the  testimony  of  their  deceitful  hearts  to  his  spot- 
less holiness  and  untainted  righteousness,  which 
alike  prove  his  displeasure  with  them,  and  require 
their  displeasure  with  themselves! 

1  The  prophet  Jeremiah,  when  contemplating  the  wickedness  anil 
deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  exclaims,  <Who  can  know  if!'  as  much 
as  to  say,  no  man  can. 


40  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Various  modes  in  which  human  character  is  disclosed — Prevalence 
of  hypocrisy — Its  tendency  to  self-deception  and  infidelity — 
Morality  of  secular  men  a  proof  of  their  infidelity — Devotees  of 
fashion — Dignity  of  their  vocation— Their  irreligion — Their  free- 
dom from  the  affectation  of  goodness — Their  errors — The  best 
virtues  of  unconverted  men  seem  not  to  acknowledge  a  God — 
They  infer  the  greatest  misconception  of  personal  character — 
They  centre  in  creatures,  and  afford  the  clearest  evidence  of  a 
faithless  heart — Peculiar  depravity  of  such  persons — Their  sinning 
without  a  motive — Things  which  try  men's  souls — Their  com- 
plaints and  their  pretensions  illustrate  their  infidelity — Their  self- 
importance  and  misery — Contrast  of  their  reasoning  and  conduct 
with  the  suggestions  of  faith — Happiness  of  a  mind  resting  on  God. 

Men  disclose  their  real  character  in  many  ways. 
Small  incidents,  rightly  considered,  are  very  decisive 
of  it.  They  show  by  signs  and  complaints,  to  which 
they  are  apt  to  attach  little  or  no  import,  what  is  in 
them,  and  what  they  think  of  God  and  of  his  word. 
And  what  individuals  disclose  from  any  cause  or 
event,  is  adequate  proof  of  what  all  others,  having 
the  same  principles,  would  do  in  a  similar  case.  It 
is  true  that  we  are  apt  to  look  with  surprise  upon 
the  conduct  of  others,  as  though  we  were  incapable 
of  doing  what  they  have  done,  yet  this  is  a  feeling 
which  universal  observation  condemns  as  founded 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  41 

m  ignorance  and  self-deception,  and  as  one  of  the 
coverts  in  which  an  evil  heart  conceals  itself  from 
our  view.  Were  we  to  take  the  trouble  to  examine 
into  our  own  history,  we  should  find  we  have, 
from  time  to  time,  committed  acts  and  sins,  to 
which,  at  different  periods,  we  had  thought  ourselves 
in  no  degree  exposed,  and  have  come  to  a  hardi- 
hood in  impenitence,  and  in  neglect  of  our  duties, 
which,  in  a  season  of  more  tenderness  of  con- 
science, we  contemplated  with  horror.  Every 
year  of  life  is  marked  with  changes  of  this  character. 
They  prove  that  we  know  little  what  we  are,  or 
what  we  shall  be;  that  'he  that  trusteth  in  his  own 
heart  is  a  fool/  no  wiser  for  experience,  and  as  con- 
fident of  future  goodness  as  if  he  had  been  only 
goodness  itself  from  the  beginning; — a  'fool,'  be- 
cause all  he  can  know  is  something  concerning  God 
or  his  creatures,  and  he  knows  nothing  of  either — 
nothing,  certainly,  that  deserves  the  repute  of  under- 
standing. 

This  deception  is  seldom  so  complete  but  it  is 
known  to  himself,  more  seldom  so  well  set  off  but 
it  is  seen  by  others  to  be  a  counterfeit  of  goodness, 
a  confidence  of  virtue  that  does  but  express  the  loss 
of  sensibility  to  it.  Hypocrisy  is  often  spun  of  a 
very  fine  thread,  so  fine  that  even  the  spinner  can 

hardly  tell  it  from   the   material  it   is   designed   to 

4* 


42  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

represent;  but,  when  he  affects  to  put  it  off  as  bettef 
than  that,  and  to  be  surprised  that  that  so  often  fails 
and  disappoints  our  hopes,  he  may  be  suspected  of 
too  much  interest  in  the  matter  to  be  honest.  His 
confidence  is  the  fruit  of  success,  not  of  excellence? 
just  as  the  counterfeiter  is  confident,  and  sets  the 
standard  value  upon  his  spurious  coin,  both  because 
it  will  bring  him  thatj  and  because,  if  he  lets  it  go 
for  less,  it  would  expose  the  secret  of  his  profession. 
His  assurance  increases  with  the  success  and  profit 
of  his  trade;  he  comes  soon  to  think  well  of  that 
and  of  himself;  seeks  the  best  society  and  connex* 
ions,  under  the  colour  and  pretence  of  a  well  earned 
fortune  and  reputation;  and,  taken  by  others  for 
what  he  affects  to  be,  no  one  resents  any  suspicion  of 
his  honour  or  integrity  more  sharply,  or  is  more 
clamorous  against  the  misdeeds  of  others.  But 
•jexpose  his  crimes — bring  him  out  of  his  conceal^ 
ments — cover  him  with  shame  and  contempt,  and 
he  will  prove  a  mystery  of  iniquity;  his  capabilities 
surprise  himself  as  well  as  others;  all  of  the  decency, 
the  philanthropy,  the  seemingness  of  the  gentleman, 
which  he  had,  is  gone  at  once,  and  his  heart  swarms 
with  every  species  of  crime  and  meanness.  So  it 
will  turn  out  with  all  the  more  refined  and  less 
criminal  degrees  of  hypocrisy.  They  conceal  pow- 
ers  of  evil  which,  in    certain    emergencies,  under 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  43 

great  pressures,  or  for  chances  of  great  advantage^ 
will  lay  by  the  mask,  and  exhibit  a  front  of  brass 
that  shocks  and  shames  every  beholder.  Examples 
of  this  are  occurring  every  day  through  all  the  gra- 
dations of  society,  and  in  individuals  as  little  sus- 
pected as  any  others;  some  of  them  so  distinguished 
that  everybody  knows  and  speaks  of  them;  but 
others,  and  by  far  the  greater  number,  known  only 
to  those  more  directly  affected  by  them.  What  we 
wish  the  reader  to  observe  as  pertinent  to  our  inquiry 
is,  that  the  preceding  remarks  show  that  men  gene- 
rally have  lower  views  of  moral  honesty,  and  of  all 
the  qualities  essential  to  the  fear  of  God  and  a  re* 
spect  for  his  revealed  commands,  than  they  pretend, 
or  suppose,  they  have;  and  that  their  faith,  as  they 
will  have  it  called,  is  not  a  faith  in  things  as  they 
are,  but  involves  a  radical  misconception  of  the 
objects  which  it  embraces. 

There  is  another  view  of  the  subject  which,  though 
disagreeable  to  nature,  is  yet  worthy  to  be  considered. 
All  men  are  ready  to  condemn  hypocrisy,  if  not  to 
boast  that  they  are  clear  of  it;  the  very  word  is 
odious,  and  yet  nothing  is  more  common  than  some 
degree  of  it.  If  men,  good  and  bad,  were  taken  for 
what  they  affect  to  be,  they  would  generally  pass 
for  more  than  they  are  worth.  No  doubt  some  are 
suspected  of  evil  wrongfully:  suspicion,  however,  is 


44  POPULAR   INFIDELITY". 

gloomy,  and  usually  the  issue  of  guilt:  but  know 
ledge  is  lustrous;  it  is  truth  revealed  and  compre* 
hended.  Genuine  goodness  so  sharpens  the  sight 
of  inward  corruption,  that  it  is  prone  to  be  more 
self-distrustful,  than  distrustful  of  others;  but  what 
of  humility  or  goodness  is  genuine  in  most  men,  for 
Want  of  due  caution,  is  apt  to  be  so  pressed  down 
with  adverse  mixtures,  that  it  is  seldom  visibly 
uppermost  in  their  speech  and  conduct.  Paul  saw 
nothing  in  the  third  heavens  that  was  of  a  nature  to 
foster  pride;  but  if  he  dwelt  upon  it  merely  as  a 
vision  by  which  he  was  distinguished,  he  might  be 
lifted  up  above  his  measure.  Hezekiah  had  that  in 
him  which  he  had  lost  sight  of,  and  which,  we  are 
told,  caused  the  Lord  to  leave  him,  that  it  might 
break  out  and  bring  him  to  a  better  understanding 
of  his  heart.  David  said,  in  his  prosperity,  '  I  shall 
never  be  moved;'  an  expression  of  his  satisfaction 
with  earthly  goods;  an  intimation  that  he  had  for- 
gotten his  dependence,  and  begun  to  prefer  the  gift 
to  the  Giver, — the  streams  to  the  fountain. 

It  is  difficult  to  keep  under  a  light  head  and  a  self- 
Complacent,  self-seeking  heart:  they  will  rise  to  the 
top  of  every  thing,  and  it  requires  a  great  weight  to 
sink  them;  and  when  sunk  and  shamed,  they  will 
perhaps  float  and  be  airy  beneath  the  visible  surface; 
they  will  affect  a  lightness  to  conceal  the  sense  of 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  45 

their  condition,  and  endeavour  to  gain  that  place 
and  confidence  by  impudence  and  pretension,  which 
they  could  never  acquire  by  capacity  and  virtue. 
They  will  flatter,  not  bribe;  they  will  provoke  others, 
by  deference  and  kindness  to  be  sure,  to  speak  praise 
of  them,  which,  if  they  had  any  proper  modesty, 
any  just  self-estimation,  they  would  blush  to  hear, 
and  fall  to  pitying  the  weakness  that  could  speak  it. 
But  not  so:  they  think  it  discernment,  moderate  and 
candid  judgment,  and  fall  to  praising  the  speaker, 
perhaps,  with  a  view  to  enhance  the  value  and 
authority  of  what  he  has  said.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  this  thing  in  the  world,  and  it  never  would, 
of  itself,  remind  us  of  greatness  or  goodness.  It  is 
like  a  doubtful  coin;  those  who  handle  most  of  it, 
doubtless,  could  not  get  on  well  without  it;  they  find 
their  profit  in  it  for  a  time,  but  we  cannot  tell  what 
the  end  will  be.  Men,  good  men,  must  oe  greatly 
good,  if  they  are  not  quite  content,  we  will  not  say 
desirous,  to  be  esteemed  more  highly  than  they 
deserve;  but  to  know  they  are  so  esteemed,  and  to 
be  lifted  up  by  it;  to  think  it  their  due  for  no  other 
reason,  and  to  complain  and  take  offence,  when  any 
happen  to  think  differently,  is  a  species  of  hypocrisy, 
a  deception  in  good  earnest,  a  claiming  of  excellence 
which  does  not  belong  to  them, — a  proof  that  they 
are  losing  sight  of  themselves  in   their  admiratio- 


46  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

of  an  image  of  others'  making;  that  they  take  pe  * 
liar  pleasure  in  such  attesting  of  their  merits,  and 
are  in  danger  of  preferring  it  to  the  '  answer  of  a 
good  conscience;'  that  the  judgment  of  men,  rather 
than  the  judgment  of  God,  is  becoming  the  object 
of  prevalent  solicitude;  and  that  the  advantage,  the 
credit  of  virtue,  is  more  looked  to,  than  virtue  itself. 
We  need  not  say  that  we  have  here  the  elements 
of  infidelity. 

Let  it,  however,  be  especially  considered,  that 
these  thoughts  are  not  without  application  to  those 
who  have  all  along  been  more  directly  in  view, — 
persons  professing  to  receive  the  Bible  as  the  word 
of  God,  rated  as  good  and  useful  members  of  society, 
and  yet  acknowledging  themselves  to  be  destitute 
of  the  life  and  power  of  religion.  If  there  be  this  de- 
ceivableness  of  heart  in  good  men,  and  this  tendency 
to  put  themselves  off  for  more  than  their  real  value, 
which  none  are  sharper  to  perceive  or  readier  to 
believe  than  those  who  pretend  to  no  religion;  if  they 
are  apt  to  affect  and  appropriate  as  their  own,  graces 
and  powers  which  others,  whether  discerningly  or 
no,  accredit  to  them;  we  are  bound  to  conclude  that 
this  aptitude  or  proneness  to  deceive  and  be  deceived, 
is  much  greater  in  those  who  have  no  motives,  no 
principles  to  oppose  it,  such  as  humility,  penitence, 
fear  of  God,  or  even  consistency  of  character.     Such 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  47 

persons  are  never  rated  according  to  their  true  cha- 
racter. All  observation  shows  this.  Should  we 
note  the  developments  of  human  character  around 
us;  should  we  reason  from  what  transpires  in  our 
own  bosoms,  we  should  be  convinced  that  the  moral- 
ity of  secular  men  is  a  'vain  show;'  that  it  is  uncer- 
tain, not  like  the  oak  that  strikes  its  roots  deeper 
and  stronger  in  its  foundation,  while  its  branches 
spread  and  aspire  to  the  skies,  but  like  a  feather  in 
the  air,  sure  to  obey  the  direction  of  the  wind,  to 
rise  and  fall  with  it,  yet  settling  down,  down,  at  every 
intermission,  till  it  fastens  on  the  earth,  and  is  seen 
to  rise  no  more.  Their  morality  wants  a  heart,  a 
principle  of  life  and  durability;  its  motives  neither 
look  to,  nor  proceed  from,  virtue;  but,  like  'the 
fool's  eyes,'  fix  on  any  thing  but  God.  This  ac- 
counts for  its  sad  and  frequent  failures.  Such  men 
universally  pretend  to  more  than  they  have.  They 
have  principles  of  evil  within  them  which  are  kept 
under,  generally,  from  motives  no  better  than  the 
principles  themselves, — motives,  certainly,  that  can 
never  purify  the  heart,  and  must  indispose  and  steel 
it  to  those  that  can.  Their  motives  are  such  as  they 
might  have  if  there  were  no  God:  they  are  not  drawn 
from  his  word,  and,  if  they  have  any  respect  to  their 
accountability  to  him,  it  is  a  respect  of  fear,  not  of 
love;  it  implies  no  understanding  or  approbation  of 


48  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

his  character;  it  is  a  mere  observing,  hardly  a  fear- 
ing, of  his  thunder;  it  is  only  nature's  involuntary 
recognition  of  its  Author;  a  blush  of  guilt  that 
vanishes  with  thought;  something,  like  our  daily 
noticing  of  the  presence  of  the  sun,  not  as  any  thing 
we  have  to  do  with  or  think  of,  except  as  it  serves 
or  incommodes  ourselves.  There  is  no  God  in  it; 
and  if  it  may  be  said  to  bow  at  the  shadow  or  thought 
of  one,  it  is  the  god  of  infidels,  not  the  <  true  God 
who  is  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself  by  Jesus 
Christ/  but  a  god  only  having  such  perfections  as  it 
suits  them  to  give  him;  a  god  who  has  no  concern 
with  rational  creatures,  but  to  see  that  they  are  not 
destroyed  by  any  irregular  action  of  his  works,  who 
will  make  them  amends  for  the  accidents,  losses, 
and  sufferings,  which  they  cannot  avoid,  and  who 
is  complained  of,  when  he  crosses  their  desires,  and 
but  spared,  when  he  does  them  good;  a  god  who  is 
afar  off,  has  no  communication  with  his  thinking 
creatures,  and  keeps  them  alive  and  permits  them 
to  multiply,  nobody  can  tell  for  what. 

If  we  consider  what  their  designs,  motives,  and 
affections  fasten  on,  what  they  look  to  and  centre  in, 
all  the  faith  we  discover  is,  that  God  was  somehow 
concerned  in  the  making  of  the  world,  and  that  they 
as  his  creatures  do  not  exactly  live  without  him. 
Is  the  desire  of  wealth,  of  knowledge,  of  office,  the 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  49 

ruling  passion  ? — every  track  leads  to  this  path,  every 
stream  runs  into  this  channel;  there  is  no  God,  no 
world  besides.  Here  the  rock  is  formed,  against 
which  all  other  currehts  dash  with  no  power  to  melt 
or  bear  it  away.  As  we  look  upon  the  spectacle, 
we  have  only  the  idea  that  the  rational  being  before 
us  was  made  to  lay  up  money,  to  gain  some  applause 
and  distinction  from  his  fellows,  and  then  die;  or 
that  he  has  lost  his  proper  attraction,  pursues  no  end 
suitable  to  himself  or  to  the  mind  of  his  Creator,  and 
is  to  be  known  as  rational  more  by  his  feet  and 
hands,  than  by  any  proof  he  gives  of  faith  in  the 
word  of  God,  or  in  the  worth  of  his  own  immortal 
nature. 

There  are  others,  church-going  people  too,  they 
are  often, — persons  neither  good  nor  bad, — harmless 
creatures  that  live  to  enjoy  themselves  with  others,1 
who  seem  to  think  that  all  which  is  committed  to 
them  to  do,  is  to  keep  up  the  fashion  of  the  world. 
From  morning  till  evening,  perhaps  not  from  eve- 
ning till  morning,  they  are  watching  the  pulse  of 
fashion;  every  symptom  of  the  creature,  always  sick 
at  best,  is  studied  as  if  the  event  of  life  turned  upon 
it;  all  her  whims  are  to  be  imitated,  and  he  who  has 
the  start  of  others  in  conformity,  thinks  himself 

1  '  There  is  a  sort  of  men,  whose  coining  heads 
Ave  mints  of  all  new  fashions.' — 
5 


50  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

made  for  the  time.  These  airy  minds  spend  their 
strength  in  contriving  and  inventing  fresh  amuse- 
ments for  themselves  and  others,  in  thinking  and 
talking  over  the  incidents  and  hap-hazards  of  the 
day,  and  in  compliments  and  ados  preparatory  to 
the  coming  prospect.  They  never  talk  on  serious 
subjects,  except  as  an  act  of  penance;  and  he  who 
does  so  in  their  presence,  runs  a  chance  of  being 
thought  a  novice,  unacquainted  with  the  fashionable 
world, — a  world  where  such  things  are  not  in  vogue. 
While  every  thing  about  them,  properly  considered, 
is  serious,  grave  as  with  the  impression  of  moment- 
ous truth,  they  are  light  and  thoughtless;  or,  if  they 
think  at  all,  it  is  as  people  breathe,  without  knowing 
it.  Should  they  ever  wear  out,  it  will  not  be  by  a 
rational  operation,  but  as  a  fire  does,  for  want  of  fuel. 
They  must  have  full  scope  and  excitement:  take 
these  away  from  them,  and  they  flounce  and  give 
signs  of  constraint,  like  a  fish  in  shallow  water,  or 
wilt  inanimately,  like  a  flower  cut  down  in  the  sun. 
They  love  the  shades  through  which  the  light  of 
truth  never  breaks ;  and  the  fewer  thoughts  and 
reflections  they  can  do  with,  the  happier  they  are. 
Would  you  punish  them,  bring  out  their  temper,  or 
discover  their  drift, — make  them  stay  with  them- 
selves, cross  their  will,  tax  them  with  the  reading 
of  a  truth-telling  book,  or  with  a  conversation  on 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  51 

the  useful  employment  of  time,  and  you  will  discover 
at  once  that  they  have  had,  and  will  have,  nothing  to 
do  with  reality;  it  is  a  dull  and  gross  affair;  a  weed  in 
a  bed  of  flowers,  a  jewel  set  in  iron,  so  thought,  be- 
cause it  is  nature  shown  in  the  grain,  truth  shorn 
of  fancy  colours,  and  duty  seen  as  it  runs  in  practice. 
Their  thoughts  will  not  come  down  to  so  plain  a 
thing;  they  live  for  other  and  gayer  ends;  and  like 
the  <  flower-shaped  psyche,'  they  fly  and  light,  and 
light  and  fly  awhile,  nobody  the  better  for  their  pre- 
sence, or  the  worse  that  they  are  gone.  But  were 
thinking  creatures  made  simply  to  run  these  rounds? 
no  time  for  rest,  no  place  for  rational  entertainment 
by  the  way  !  Were  they  made  to  add,  to  multiply, 
and  subtract  with  ciphers  only?  Do  they  know 
there  is  a  God? — or  knowing  there  is,  do  they  ever 
think  that  they  are  known  to  him?  Patterns  of 
civility,  exact  observers  of  propriety,  quick  avengers 
of  neglects,  do  they  give  him  a  look  or  a  bow  of  recog- 
nition, as  he  speaks  and  passes  in  his  dispensations  ? 
'  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,'  but  these  people  do 
not  know,  do  not  consider,  to  whom  they  belong. 
Look  through  all  their  doings,  pleasures,  plans,  and 
you  will  find  no  sympathy,  no  pause,  no  check, 
caused  by  divine  truth.  The  affectation  of  good  and 
reverent  qualities  proves  some  consideration  for 
them:  but  they  have  not  this;  they  do  not,  whatever 


52  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

else  they  affect,  so  much  as  affect  a  show  of  devotion 
As  Lot's  wife,  for  looking  back  and  not  believing 
the  word  of  the  Lord,  was  changed  into  a  pillar  of 
salt,  so  they  seem  to  be  fashioned  into  an  unnatural 
structure,  '  looking  before  and  after,'  steeled  against 
obedience,  and  bent  on  idols  and  self-indulgence. 
Y  you  take  from  them  the  diction  and  metre  of 
fashion,  the  thoughts  and  affections  which  are  bred 
in  worldly  fancies  and  amusements,  what  do  you 
leave  them  but  empty  vessels,  mansions  whose  great 
inhabitants  are  kept  in  chains  by  usurpers,  or  pre- 
sented as  strung  up  in  bones,  with  no  heart,  no 
flashes  of  wit  and  conscience,  shadowing  life  and 
hope.  They  are  '  without  God  in  the  world;'  that 
is,  they  are  without  that  influence  from  him,  enter- 
ing into  their  affections,  joys,  plans,  hopes,  and 
shaping  the  conduct,  which  a  belief  of  his  word 
would  impart.  They  are  infidels,  no  better  in  con- 
dition and  prospect,  than  those  who  acknowledge 
they  are  so;  and  if  they  do  not  know  it,  it  is  because 
they  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  be  informed:  they 
want  the  reflection  necessary  to  conviction. 

There  can  be  no  living  after  the  manner  above 
described,  without  ignorance  of  the  word  of  God, 
(and  to  be  ignorant  of  it,  when  we  have  it  in  our 
hands,  is  to  despise  and  reject  it,)  or  without  some 
inward,  sleepy  contrivance  of  our  own,  by  which  we 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  53 

underrate  the  blessedness  promised  to  obedience, 
and  hope  to  escape  the  punishment  threatened  against 
transgression,— and  this,  again, is  infidelity. 

Other  remarks  might  be  made  in  reference  to  this 
class  of  individuals,  which  would  lead  to  the  same 
conclusion.  As  a  general  principle,  it  is  worthy  to 
be  noted,  that  there  is  nothing  which  true  faith 
prompts  us  to  shun  more  resolutely  than  the  '  appear* 
ance  of  evil.'  The  true  believer  sees  nothing  more 
to  be  dreaded  than  sin.  He  has  such  experience  of 
its  bitterness,  yea,  of  his  proneness  to  it,  that  like 
4  the  prudent  man,'  he  '  foreseeth  the  evil  and  hideth 
himself.'  If  called  to  meet  it  in  any  of  the  forms 
of  temptation,  he  distrusts  his  strength,  and  attempts 
to  stand  up  and  go  forward,  only  in  the  strength  of 
the  Lord.  Persons,  who  have  none  of  this  expe- 
rience, are  already  captives,  '  sold  under  sin.'  They 
have  made  it  their  element  so  long,  and  their  thoughts 
nnd  feelings  flow  in  its  channels  so  naturally,  that 
nothing  seems  to  be  wrong.  They  do  not  identify 
its  nature,  or  separate  it  from  themselves. 

If  we  apply  this  principle  to  the  devotees  of  fashion 
and  pleasure,  to  idlers  at  large,  they  will  appear  to 
personate  infidelity.  Sin,  considered  abstractly,  is 
no  evil  in  their  view.  They  never  think  that  its 
nature  is  to  obstruct  all  faith  in  the  word  of  God, — 
that  low  apprehensions  of  its  evil  nature  tend  directly 
5* 


54  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

to  produce  diminishing  impressions  of  the  excellency 
of  the  divine  law,  and  of  the  worth  of  the  privileges 
and  blessings  of  the  gospel.     In  short,  their  views 
make  '  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God?  in  the  great 
plan  of  redemption  by  the  sufferings  and  death  of 
Christ,  foolishness,  a  downright   misconception  of 
their  condition  and  necessities*     Entertaining  these 
notions  of  sin,  and  affected  by  them  in  this  manner, 
no  wonder  they  are  not  troubled  by  it,  and  do  not 
seek  deliverance  from  it.     Who  will  apply  for  grace 
When  he  feels  that  he  has  strength  enough  without 
it?    Who  that  is  whole  will  seek  a  physician  ?    Who 
that  is  in  no  danger  will  fly  to  a  refuge  ?     Who  can 
be  penetrated  with  shame  and  sorrow  for  that  which 
he  deems  no  crime,  or  discredit  to  himself?     Who 
will  learn  to  depend  on  a  foreign  agency  to  live 
virtuously,  when  virtue  is  his  boast,  and  considered 
to  be  his  birthright?     No  persons  are  in  greater 
danger  of  falling  into  these  views  of  sin,  and  the 
unbelief  they  engender,  than  those  to   whom  we 
have  alluded.     They  are  not,  generally,  addicted  to 
distinguished  iniquities, —things  that  expose  them- 
selves, abash  pride,  and  endanger  character.     They 
are  strict  observers  of  decency  and   moderation  in 
sinning.     They  are  only  devoted  to  pleasures  and 
amusements  called  innocent.     They  are  not  pious 
to  be  sure,  but  that  is  no  criim<\  not  a  thing  to  be 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  55 

repented  of  or  alarmed  at.  Nothing  is  more  com- 
mon, say  they,  and  we  may  safely  and  without 
reproach  go  with  the  multitude  in  one  respect,  if  we 
shun  their  vices  in  others.  Thus  they  are  confident; 
no  temptations  scare  them,  no  danger  of  being 
brought  near  great  offences  along  an  inclined  road 
of  evil  is  apprehended,  and  the  only  wonder  is,  that 
they  last  so  long;  that  they  do  not  sooner  and  oftener 
slide,  break  through  all  restraint,  and  stand  out  as 
matured  criminals.  There  is  criminality  in  all  they 
do,  for  they  do  nothing  well;  and  not  to  do  well,  is 
to  do  wrong.  Their  great  error  is,  that  they  do  not 
see  the  sinfulness  of  sin  in  their  forgetfulness  of 
God;  in  their  not  rating  and  loving  objects  according 
to  the  measure  of  their  worth  and  excellence.  These 
things  show  that  their  nature  has  run  wild  from 
goodness, — that  they  are  estranged  from  God;  and 
to  be  estranged  from  him  is  the  sum  and  essence 
of  all  sin,  the  very  heart  of  infidelity, — that  keeper 
of  the  conscience  that  shuts  out  the  entrance  of  truth, 
and  cries  peace,  peace,  when  all  the  peace  there  is, 
is  only  that,  when  pains  and  fears  give  way  to  death. 
If  we  examine  the  best  virtues  of  unconverted 
men  generally,  and  particularly  of  such  as  we  have 
last  described,  we  shall  find  new  light  on  the  subject. 
It  requires  no  great  insight  into  human  nature,  to 
discover  the  remnants  of  a  now   fallen,  but  once 


56  POPULAR   INFIDELITY* 

glorious,  structure;  and,  what  is  most  remarkable,  to 
see  that  the  remains  of  this  ancient  greatness  are 
more  apt  to  be  quickened  and  drawn  out  by  their 
semblances  and  qualities,  found  in  creatures,  than 
by  the  bright  and  full  perfection  of  them  which 
is  in  the  Creator;— that  the  heart  puts  on  its  most 
benign  face,  and  sends  forth  prompt  returns  of 
gratitude  and  love  to  creatures  who  have  bestowed 
on  us  favour  and  displayed  other  amiable  quali- 
ties, while  He,  whose  goodness  is  so  great,  so 
complete,  so  pervading,  that  there  is  none  besides 
it, — the  gifts  and  qualities,  with  which  we  are  so 
readily  enamoured,  being  his,  and  not  his  creatures', 
except  as  they  are  permitted  to  pass  through  their 
hands  to  ours, — is  unrequited,  unheeded,  unseen, 
though  hanging  out  his  glory  from  the  heavens,  and 
coming  down  to  us  in  streams  of  compassion  and 
love,  which  have  made  an  ocean  on  earth  that  is  to 
overflow  and  fill  it.  How  strange  it  is,  that  all  this 
love,  so  wonderful  in  itself,  so  undeserved,  so  dif- 
fused, that  we  see  it  in  every  beauty,  and  taste  it  in 
every  enjoyment, — should  be  lost  on  creatures  whose 
love  for  the  gentler  and  worthier  qualities  of  each 
other,  runs  so  often  into  rapture  and  devotion  !  How 
strange  that  they  should  be  so  delighted  with  streams 
which  have  gathered  such  admixtures  of  earth,  which 
cast  up  such  '  mire  and  dirt/  and  have  such  shallows 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  57 

and  falls  that  we  often  wreck  our  hopes  in  them, — as 
not  to  be  reminded  by  them  of  the  great  and  unmixed 
fountain  whence  they  have  flowed,  or  of  the  great 
ocean,  to  whose  dark  and  unbottomed  depths  they 
will  at  last  settle,  as  too  earthy  to  rise  to  its  pure 
and  glorious  surface!  There  are  many  mysteries 
in  human  nature,  but  none  greater  than  this:  for 
while  it  shows  man  is  so  much  a  creature  of  sense 
and  so  devoid  of  faith,  that  objects,  to  gain  his  atten- 
tion and  affection,  must  not  only  be  present  to  him, 
but  have  something  of  sense  and  self  in  them,  we 
are  still  left  to  wonder  how  he  could,  with  such 
manifestations  of  divine  goodness  in  him,  around 
him,  and  for  him,  have  failed  to  see  and  adore  them, 
and  become  so  like  a  brute,  as  not  to  think  of  God, 
the  original  of  all  that  is  lovely,  when  thinking  of 
those  his  qualities  which  so  please  and  affect  him  in 
creatures;  and  this,  though  they  be  so  soiled  and 
defaced  by  sin,  that  his  unmixed  fondness  for  any 
the  most  agreeable  of  them,  instead  of  being  an 
accomplishment,  is  a  sure  indication  of  a  mind  sunk 
greatly  below  the  standard  allotted  to  it  by  the 
Creator. 

Our  wonder  will  be  raised  higher  still,  if  we  con- 
sider that  our  nature,  when  most  corrupt  and  per- 
verse, is  not  wholly  lost  to  all  sense  of  gratitude,  but 
may  be  wrought  upon  by  human  kindness,  when  all     t 


58  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

the  amazing  compassion  and  love  of  God  fail  to 
affect  it;  if  we  consider  that  the  very  worst  of  men 
who  set  their  faces  against  the  heavens,  affronting 
the  mercy  and  defying  the  majesty  thereof,  are 
sometimes  so  softened  with  a  sense  of  singular  and 
undeserved  favours,  that  their  hearts  swell  with 
grateful  sentiments  towards  their  benefactors,  and 
something  akin  to  virtue  is  kindled  up  where  no- 
thing of  the  kind  was  seen  before;  we  might  think 
it  incredible,  if  there  was  any  doubting  of  what  we 
see  and  know.  When  we  see  such  men  so  ready  to 
acknowledge  their  obligations  to  their  fellows,  and 
to  return  service  for  service;  so  impatient  of  being 
thought  ungrateful,  when  they  have  any  character  or 
interest  to  promote  by  it,  and  sometimes,  when  they 
have  not;  so  strongly  affected  with  the  goodness  of 
him  who  has  interposed  between  them  and  temporal 
danger  or  death,  and  yet  so  little  moved  by  the  love 
of  God  in  Christ,  which  has  undertaken  their  rescue 
from  eternal  and  deserved  woes,  and  not  merely 
their  rescue,  but  their  exaltation  to  fellowship  with 
himself,  and  to  the  pleasures  for  evermore  at  his  right 
hand, — a  love  compared  with  which  the  greatest 
love  of  creatures  is  as  a  ray  of  light  to  the  sun  and 
that  ray  mixed  and  darkened,  while  this  is  so  dis- 
interested and  free  in  the  grounds  and  motives  of  it, 
that  it  is  exercised  towards  those  who  have  neither 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  59 

merit  to  invite,  nor  disposition  to  receive  it;  when 
we  see  this,  and  find  that  this  love,  so  worthy  in 
itself,  so  incomprehensible  in  its  degree  and  in  the 
benefits  it  would  confer,  is  the  only  love  to  which 
they  make  no  returns  of  thankfulness  or  regard,  we 
may  ascribe  as  much  of  it  as  we  please  to  the  hard- 
ness and  corruption  of  their  hearts,  but  that  will  not 
account  for  such  conduct.  Depravity,  considered 
by  itself,  will  not  enable  us  fully  to  understand  it. 
Depraved,  sensual,  and  perverse  as  they  are,  they 
have  something  in  them  that  is  kindled  by  human 
kindness,  and  why  should  it  not  be  kindled  by  the 
greater  6 kindness  of  God  our  Saviour?'  It  is  not 
because  it  is  a  divine  kindness;  not  that  it  is  less 
needed — not  that  it  is  bestowed  in  less  measure,  or 
at  less  expense.  And  if  it  is  because  they  do  not 
apprehend  this  kindness,  do  not  feel  their  need  of  it, 
do  not  see  any  thing  affecting  in  the  measure  and 
expense  of  it,  this  is  infidelity;  and  it  grows  out  of 
an  entire  misconception  of  their  own  character,  and 
of  the  character  and  law  of  God.  It  is  a  total  blind- 
ness to  distant  and  invisible  good  and  evil.  It  is  a 
venturing  of  every  thing  most  important  to  them- 
selves on  an  uncertainty,  which  they  would  not  and 
could  not  do,  if  they  had  any  understanding  of  the 
value  of  the  interests  at  stake.  They  really  see 
nothing  important  but  the  gratifications  of  sense  and 


60  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

time:  still  they  have  the  remains  of  a  capacity  for 
something  higher.  These  may  be  contemplated 
with  profit,  if  not  with  admiration.  They  resemble 
the  motions  in  the  limbs  and  heart  of  animals,  when 
the  head  is  severed  from  the  body.  They  are 
symptoms  of  a  life  that  of  itself  must  come  to  no- 
thing; a  life  that  is  solely  pouring  itself  out  on  the 
ground.  But  as  this  is  all  the  life  they  have,  an 
image  of  life,  and  that  only  of  life  in  death;  and  as 
the  motions  of  it  are  only  excited  by  the  creature's 
kindness,  we  discover  in  their  best  virtues,  or  rather, 
in  their  only  breathings  and  indications  of  virtue, 
the  evidence  of  a  faithless  heart. 

The  different  classes  of  people  brought  to  our  view 
in  this  chapter,  generally  consider  themselves  very 
innocent;  some,  because  they  are  free  from  great 
vices,  and  others,  because  great  vices  have  blinded 
their  eyes  to  guilt.  But  it  is  observable  that  the 
ground  of  this  supposed  innocence  is  the  same  in 
all,  and  lies  in  mistaken  views  of  the  evil  nature  of 
sin,  and  of  the  gospel  plan  of  delivering  them  both 
from  its  pollution  and  curse;  so  that  the  most  virtuous 
one  of  them  is  as  much  an  infidel  in  this  as  the  most 
vicious,  that  he  does  not  believe  himself  to  be  totally 
ruined  by  .sin,  totally  destitute  of  any  thing  accept- 
able to  a  holy  God,  and  totally  dependent  on  him 
for  grace  to  renew  and  fit  the  soul  for  the  bliss  of 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  61 

heaven.  Their  virtues,  too,  though  in  some  more 
clearly  manifested  than  in  others,  are  in  all  the  same 
as  to  the  grounds  and  ohjects  of  them.  They  are 
such  as  love,  gratitude,  sympathy  with  the  distresses, 
and  patient  endurance  for  the  welfare,  of  others. 
We  see  much  of  these  in  one  way  and  another,  and 
sometimes  very  attractive  examples  of  them.  But, 
as  has  been  shown,  their  aptest,  if  not  their  only 
exercise,  is  in  view  of  the  favours,  claims,  and  vir- 
tues of  creatures.  These  display  acts  of  love,  grati- 
tude, and  self-denial,  strongly  fastening  on  and 
ending  in  the  creatures,  while  they  are  in  no  degree 
moved  by  the  greater  occasions  and  excitements 
of  these  virtues,  found  in  the  dispensations  and 
perfections  of  the  Creator.  These  very  virtues 
then,  which  are  more  the  distinction  of  some  than 
of  others,  yet  in  some  way  the  boast  of  all,  are,  as 
truly  as  their  vices,  the  proof  of  rank  infidelity — 
that  mixture  of  folly  and  estrangement  which  seems 
to  say,  '  there  is  no  God.' 

They  all,  too,  pay  a  certain  homage  to  virtue — 
some  by  their  unwillingness  to  be  thought  without 
it;  others  by  their  sensibility  to  manifestations  of  it 
in  friends  and  benefactors;  and  others,  far  the  greater 
number,  by  false  pretensions  to  it.  We  allude  to 
this  now  as  a  proof  of  peculiar  depravity,  especially 
in  those  who  have  been  considered  as  claiming  for 
6 


62  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

themselves  a  special  exemption  from  it.  Their  very 
claim  to  virtue,  their  affectation  of  it,  shows  that  their 
nature  and  interest  plead  in  its  behalf.  This  part 
of  their  conduct  seems  to  acknowledge,  in  some 
sense,  the  worth  and  advantages  of  Christian  virtue. 
And  thus  far,  at  least,  it  serves  to  evince  that  the 
temptations  to  sin  and  irreligion  not  only  do  not 
make  their  appeal  to  the  reason  of  man,  but  are  op- 
posed both  by  his  reason  and  interest.  If  we  allow 
that  men  are  strongly  prone  to  conceal  their  vices, 
and  to  display  virtues,  whether  they  have  them  or 
not,  there  can  be  no  better  evidence  that  immorality 
and  impiety  are  found  to  be  inexpedient  in  the  pre- 
sent life.  It  shows  that  the  witnesses  against  them 
are  thick  on  every  side;  that  the  practice  of  them  is 
not  merely  a  disadvantage,  but  a  wrong  and  a  vio- 
lence against  reason,  as  well  as  a  contempt  and 
breach  of  the  will  of  God.  That  must  be  a  singular 
wickedness,  a  sin-loving  sinfulness  indeed,  that  is 
abashed  and  reproved  at  every  turn,  and  still  sins 
on  with  pain  and  hazard,  without  the  hope  of  ad- 
vantage, and  against  the  strongest  pleadings  of  a 
better  mind.  Such  persons  sin  without  a  gain;  and, 
if  they  are  to  be  credited,  without  a  love  of  it  too. 
They  sin  with  acknowledged  disadvantage  and  in- 
jury to  themselves.  Indeed,  on  their  principles, 
nobody  can  tell  why  they  sin  at  all,  unless  it  be  as 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  63 

water  runs  downhill,  because  it  cannot  stop  itself, 
and  has  a  seeking  to  get  as  low  as  it  can.  They 
have  that  in  them  which  rejects  the  testimony  of  God 
concerning  his  Son,  brings  his  counsel  to  naught, 
casts  back  his  gifts  at  his  feet,  and  thus  exalts  itself 
' above  all  that  is  called  God.'  If  they  could  have 
faith  without  reflection,  be  delivered  from  misery  in 
their  sins,  and  obtain  heaven  without  a  cross;  then 
well  and  good:  they  would  like  to  have  it  so.  They 
are  barely  (for  they  seem  not  to  study  or  calculate 
much  about  it)  willing  to  be  saved  on  their  own 
terms,  and  see  no  wisdom  in  any  other.  Hence 
their  wonderful  ingratitude  for  redemption.  Hence 
the  doctrine  of  Christ  is  clouded  and  deprived  of  its 
proper  influence,  by  their  misconceptions  of  it  and 
of  their  own  character.  Their  minds  are  filled  with 
mean  and  unworthy  thoughts  and  suspicions  of  God, 
which  are  but  the  types  and  shadows  of  themselves, 
pointing  to  those  revelations  of  great  depravity, 
which  they  are  so  apt  to  make  on  occasions  of  temp- 
tation and  affliction. 

There  are  times  and  events  which  'try  men's 
souls,'  and  bring  to  light '  the  hidden  things  of  dark- 
ness.' It  seems  to  be  a  general  law  of  God's  deal- 
ings with  his  rational  creatures,  to  give  them  pres- 
sure enough  of  some  kind,  to  make  them  show  out 
what  they  are.     This  is  perhaps  a  reason  why  the 


64  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

actors  in  great  deceptions  and  iniquities  seem  to  be 
so  often  struck  with  infatuation  and  a  strange  pro- 
pensity to  self-disclosure.  But  there  is  nothing  un- 
natural in  it.  There  are  always  folly  and  miscalcu- 
lation in  sin:  it  is  the  weakest  as  well  as  the  worst 
of  things;  it  is  as  stupid  as  it  is  criminal.  Still 
there  is,  besides  this  natural  tendency  of  sin,  a  ten- 
dency in  the  dispensations  of  God  to  bring  out  the 
real  character  of  men.  And  none  are  more  apt  to 
disappoint  our  expectations,  (unless  indeed  we  have 
profited  by  observation,  so  as  to  expect  little  from 
them,)  than  those  who,  without  any  pretence  or 
show  of  piety,  make  large  pretensions  to  the  moral 
virtues,  and  have  indeed  a  fair  appearance  of  them. 
They  sometimes,  all  at  once,  without  any  apparent 
maturing  process,  develope  a  capacity  for  impiety  and 
crime  that  would  shock  the  hardiest  infidel  to  wit- 
ness. Hazael,  no  doubt,  had  been  a  faithful  servant; 
he  had  the  confidence  of  his  king,  and,  if  he  were 
not  a  dissembler,  was  confident  of  his  own  virtue, 
when  he  came  to  consult  the  prophet,  Elisha,  con- 
cerning the  recovery  of  his  master's  health.  But 
so  great  was  his  capacity  for  iniquity,  that  'the  man 
of  God  wept'  as  he  looked  upon  him;  and  when 
Hazael  inquired  for  the  occasion  of  his  tears,  he  an- 
swered, 'because  I  know  the  evil  that  thou  wilt  do 
unto  the  children  of  Israel.'     And  when  told  the 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  65 

crimes  he  would  commit — confident  that  he  could 
not  be  guilty  of  such  deeds— Hazael  replies  in  that 
haste  which  intimates  either  disgust  or  resentment, 
<  But  what!  is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do 
this  great  thing?'  And  Elisha  answered,  '  The 
Lord  hath  showed  me  that  thou  shalt  be  king  over 
Syria.'  Here  was  the  temptation;  and,  forewarned 
as  he  was,  what  did  he  do?  He  returned  to  his 
master  with  a  lie  in  his  mouth,  the  secret  abomina- 
tions of  his  heart  were  unloosed,  he  murdered  the 
helpless  king,  and  'reigned  in  his  stead.'  So  it 
turns  out  with  numbers  of  this  class.  But  one  in- 
stance is  as  good  as  many,  to  show  that  there  is  no 
Stability,  no  principle,  no  nature  of  goodness  in  any 
of  them.  Should  God  lay  his  hand  upon  the  best 
of  them,  as  he  did  upon  his  servant  Job,  they  would 
disclose  their  great  sinfulness,  if  not  in  abandoning 
themselves  to  vices  and  crimes,  yet  in  more  direct 
and  expressive  manifestations  of  enmity  to  him. 
Should  he  afflict  them  with  sores,  break  up  their 
peace,  take  away  their  possessions,  children,  and 
friends,  they  would  not  require  a  special  tempter, 
they  would  show,  before  half  the  trial  was  over,  that 
their  service,  their  virtue,  had  been  for  reward; 
they  would,  not  prompted  by  another,  but  self- 
moved,  i  curse  him  to  his  face;'  and,  instead  of  sub- 
mitting, and.  if  need  were,   dying,  like  a  rational 


68  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

creature  returning  to  God,  they  would  fly  from 
him,  and  suffer  themselves  to  be  taken,  as  they  do 
the  robber  to  take  their  money,  only  when  they 
could  resist  it  no  longer* 

It  is  observable  that  when  troubles  and  crosses  do 
not  break  the  human  will  and  render  it  submissive 
to  the  will  of  God,  they  only  stir  up  its  resistance  to 
discharge  itself  in  complaints  against  him.  Such 
complaints  always  suppose  that  the  sufferings  in  the 
case  are  not  deserved,  are  unjustly  inflicted,  and 
altogether  inconsistent  with  the  divine  wisdom  and 
goodness  in  the  government  of  the  world.  It  will 
be  seen  at  once  that  this  view  is  wholly  at  variance 
with  any  true  knowledge  of  God,  his  word,  or  the 
heart  of  man,  and  that  it  disqualifies  for  the  exercise, 
as  well  as  disproves  the  existence,  of  the  lowest  de- 
gree of  faith  in  either  as  revealed  in  the  Scriptures. 
These  complaints  indeed  assume  man  to  be  wiser 
than  God,  and  affect  a  desire  to  govern,  to  be  out 
of  his  hands,  and  to  be  without  him,  and  without 
hope  from  him,  in  the  world.  Nothing  can  more 
clearly  express  distrust  of  his  word  and  perfections, 
or  more  immoderately  exalt  the  wisdom  and  merit 
of  man.  On  the  ground  of  these  assumptions,  his 
will  is  to  prevail  in  every  thing;  he  is  to  be  con- 
sidered as  knowing  what  is  best  for  him,  as  entitled 
to  what  he  has,  as   needing  no  correction,  and  as 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  67 

wronged  by  every  pain  he  feels — a  pretension  in 
which  he  swings  clear  from  God  and  all  duty  to 
him;  not  to  mention  that  it  makes  him  infallible, 
and  God  an  erring  and  unauthorized  disturber  of 
human  affairs.  We  say  not  that  men  ever  believe 
all  this,  when  they  stop  to  reflect;  but  in  the  haste 
of  passion  and  interest  their  faith  may  go  on  at  this 
rate.  But  whether  they  be  said  to  believe  it  or  no, 
they  appear  sometimes  to  act  and  speak  it.  They 
act,  if  not  on  the  faith,  on  the  presumption  of  it, 
which  is  worse;  for  hastily  to  presume  that  respect- 
ing God  and  his  dispensations,  which  is  so  extrava- 
gant and  impious  that  we  cannot  considerately  be- 
lieve it,  is  a  singular  aggravation  of  guilt. 

To  entertain  an  injurious  suspicion  of  another's 
character,  without  so  much  as  inquiring  whether  there 
be  any  ground  for  it,  is  proof  of  no  ordinary  depravity. 
It  indicates  a  delight  in  evil  surmises,  a  love  of  evil  for 
its  own  sake,  an  inconsideration  for  the  rights  of 
others,  which,  under  protection  from  personal  harm, 
would  not  stop  at  any  injustice.  Men  may  be  so 
prejudiced  and  depraved,  as  to  be  greatly  liable  to 
form  wrong  and  injurious  conclusions  even  after 
much  inquiry  for  the  truth.  It  may  also  be  very  dif- 
ficult to  convince  them  of  their  error,  and  still,  they 
may  have  too  much  conscience,  too  much  considera- 
tion, to  adopt  such  conclusions,  without  any  examina- 


68  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

tion,  or  to  retain  them,  without  some  persuasion  of 
their  truth.  There  are,  if  we  may  so  say,  marks' 
of  rationality  in  their  guilt,  concessions  at  least  that 
they  hold  themselves  responsible  for  what  they  do 
and  think.  But  what  should  be  thought  of  those 
who  never  ask  whether  they  are  right  or  wrong; 
who  are  wrong  chiefly  on  subjects  of  the  greatest 
moment  to  themselves,  and  most  criminally  wrong, 
because  subjects  of  such  a  nature  that  a  little  reflec- 
tion would  be  sufficient  to  set  them  right?  If  it 
argues  peculiar  depravity  in  men  to  take  up  and  credit 
a  report,  fatal  to  the  reputation  of  one  who  has  been 
long  known  and  spoken  of  by  them  as  distinguished 
for  his  goodness,  without  concerning  themselves  to 
know  the  truth  of  it;  still,  as  a  good  man  at  best  is 
imperfect  and  sometimes  falls  from  the  just  eleva- 
tion he  has  gained,  it  is  not  so  very  wonderful, 
though  so  very  wicked,  that  they  should  do  this,  as 
that  they  should  presume  to  impeach  the  justice  and 
wisdom  of  God  in  his  dealings  with  them,  without 
being  at  all  awed  by  his  perfections  or  their  own 
ignorance  and  guilt;  without  indeed  so  much  as  in- 
quiring whether  there  may  not  be  good  reasons  for 
what  he  does — reasons  looking  after  their  best  wel- 
fare and  growing  out  of  his  perfection: — and  this, 
when  in  their  prosperity,  when  he  allowed  them  to 
have  their  way  in  every  thing,  though  it  were  a  way 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  09 

of  disservice  to  him  and  of  destruction  to  themselves, 
none  were  more  certain  to  take  occasion  to  sin  from 
his  goodness,  or  more  ready  to  profess  their  patience 
and  pleasure  to  continue  in  his  hands!  What  has 
changed  their  views?  What  has  put  to  flight  their 
reverence  and  consideration  at  once?  God  has  not 
changed.  His  goodness  is  no  more  tarnished  or  di- 
minished than  the  sun's  light  and  greatness,  by  the 
clouds  that  have  darkened  their  prospect.  Must  they 
always  have  a  clear  sky?  Must  they  be  visited  only 
with  gentle  breezes  and  heavenly  dews?  Must  there 
be  no  winds  and  storms?  Must  they  be  exempt  from 
the  general  laws  which  the  Creator  has  established? 
Must  he  work  a  perpetual  miracle  in  their  behalf, 
that  nothing  may  give  them  pain,  and  that  every 
thing  may  go  as  they  would  have  it?  Suppose  he 
should,  and  should  do  the  mind  of  all  in  the  same 
way?  Would  there  be  any  room  for  him  to  have  a 
will  of  his  own?  Would  any  thing  but  confusion  and 
disorder  follow?  Should  the  wishes  of  others  con- 
flict with  their  own,  which  must  prevail?  They,  or 
others,  on  this  plan,  must  be  subjected  to  disappoint- 
ments and  crosses;  and  thus  no  way  seems  to  be 
left  for  God  to  silence  their  complaints  and  secure 
their  approbation,  but  to  let  them  have  their  plea- 
sure in  every  thing,  and  to  do  his  own  pleasure 
with  respect  to  all  others.     What  importance  then 


70  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

do  they  take  to  themselves!  What  ignorance  and 
distrust  of  God  do  they  betray,  in  their  murmurs 
against  his  dispensations!  The  moment  they  are 
tried  and  shaken  a  little,  they  fall  off  from  him,  like 
the  dead  limbs  and  leaves  of  a  tree.  They  have  a 
certain  elevation,  but  there  is  no  life  and  vigour  in 
it;  and,  when  its  earthly  props  are  taken  away,  it 
falls  to  the  ground.  They  are  like  those  people  who 
have  great  trust  and  pleasure  in  their  physician, 
when  their  health  is  returning  and  the  prospects  of 
worldly  enjoyments  are  brightening  afresh;  but  no 
sooner  do  new  pains  and  doubtful  symptoms  arise, 
than  they  lose  all  confidence,  and  vent  their  impa- 
tience in  reproaches.  The  doctor  must  give  them 
instant  relief,  or  he  has  no  skill;  he  must  be  ever  at 
their  side,  or  he  is  inattentive,  though  the  world 
beside  is  dying  for  want  of  his  assistance. 

Here  is  a  mistake  which  people  often  make  in 
complaining  of  God.  They  appear  to  think  that 
they  are  very  special  objects  of  his  attention — that 
he  comes  out  of  his  ivay  to  reach  and  afflict  them. 
They  forget  that  they  are  each  but  one  of  a  world, 
and  that  clouds  and  sunshine  are  no  respecters  of 
persons.  They  will  see  at  once  the  reason  and  ad- 
vantage of  his  dispensations.  They  must  feel  the 
profit;  they  must  have  a  sight  and  taste  of  it,  and 
not  be  compelled  to  trust  and  look  for  it.     Like  a 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  71 

child  that  is  put  to  a  task,  with  the  promise  of  a  re- 
ward to-morrow,  they  become  impatient  and  idle, 
while  the  reward  is  out  of  sight;  but  only  bring  it  to 
their  eye  and  keep  it  there,  and  they  will  do  and 
suffer  twice  as  much  as  was  required  to  obtain  it.    In 
affliction  they  reason  like  a  child  whose  thoughts  are 
taken  up  with  the  smart  of  a  burn,  and  therefore 
refuses  to  be  comforted  by  the  fire,  forgets  its  design, 
and  thinks  it  has  no  use  but  to  burn:  or  like  a  child 
that  has  been  spoiled  by  indulgence,  they  think  it 
proper  that  every  will  should  bend  to  theirs,  take 
every  cross  as  a  wrong,  and  resist  every  invasion 
with  as  much  sharpness  and  confidence  as  if  the 
world  were  all  a  nest  and  they  the  wasps  that  made  it. 
There  is  something  fundamentally  wrong  in  the 
moral  condition  of  such  people.     We  see  nothing 
of  the  character  of  goodness  in  them,  and  as  little  of 
the    reflection    and    support  of  faith.       Instead    of 
making  other  things  their  appendages,  they  seem  to 
append  to  and  lean  on  every  thing.     They  are  like 
vessels  that  are  kept  from  shrinking,  or  falling  to 
pieces,  only  by  the  air  that  fills  them.     They  are 
given  to  change,  and  the  reason  is  or  seems  to  be, 
that  they  know  not  what  well  enough  is,  or  know- 
ing, cannot   let  it  alone.      It  will  do  for  children 
to  complain  of  crosses,  and  to  desire  novelties,  and 
we  should  bear  with  them,  if  they  have  little  reason 


72  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

in  either  j  but  grown  people  ought  to  conquer  their 
desires,  not  let  their  desires  conquer  them.  Know- 
ing the  little  there  is  to  choose  between  one  and 
another  thing,  except  so  far  as  it  may  be  more  or 
less  turned  to  our  spiritual  account,  we  ought  to  be 
diffident  of  our  choices,  and  at  most,  to  conclude  that 
we  should  profit  little  by  that  which  the  highest 
wisdom,  tempered  with  the  most  condescending 
goodness,  denies  to  our  desires.  What  is  less  agree- 
able to  faith  and  reason,  than  the  conduct  of  a  rational 
being,  discontented  with  his  present  condition,  and 
languishing  for  this  and  another  thing,  as  if  nothing 
allotted  to  him  were  such  as  it  should  be,  or  such  as 
he  might  safely  determine  to  have  it?  The  kind  of 
computation  which  we  are  disposed  to  make  in  these 
matters,  is  very  decisive  of  our  character.  Faith  is 
not  apt  to  turn  chooser  of  the  bounties  of  God,  but 
attaches  chief  value  to  that  which  bears  the  clearest 
stamp  of  his  will,  regarding  more  the  good  intent, 
than  the  sensible  fruition,  of  the  gift.  It  indulges  no 
large  expectation,  especially  no  immoderate  craving, 
of  temporal  enjoyment,  well  assured  that  but  little 
can  be  lost  here  at  most,  and  that  nothing  can  be  in- 
tended to  afford  us  rest,  which  we  must  so  soon 
leave  and  our  fondness  is  so  apt  to  turn  to  our 
harm.  It  makes  us  afraid  to  complain  that  we  have 
so  little  to  enjoy;   it  rather  fills  us  with  wonder  that 


FOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  73 

we  have  so  much.  It  always  looks  before  it  leaps, 
and  has  the  manhood  to  bear  with  present  ills,  so 
long  as  there  is  promise  or  hope  of  their  conducting 
to  the  best  result  at  last. 

How  admirable  are  the  reflections  and  actions 
prompted  by  the  genuine  faith  of  the  Christian,  con- 
trasted with  those  of  the  complaining,  restless  spirit 
of  unbelief!  When  he  comes  to  try  a  new  situa- 
tion, he  expects  to  find  it  little  better,  perhaps  worse, 
than  the  one  he  leaves.  If  things  are  not  right 
at  home,  in  himself,  he  knows  that  things  abroad, 
out  of  himself,  will  not  make  him  happy.  He  is 
able,  like  the  bee,  to  extract  sweets  from  the  bitter- 
est flowers,  (flower  to  him  every  thing  that  will 
yield  a  sweetness,)  and  to  feed,  in  inclement  seasons, 
on  the  honey  that  is  in  his  hive,  that  is,  in  himself, 
through  the  culture  and  the  treasuring  of  kind  and 
pious  affections.  He  lets  patience  have  her  '  perfect 
work,'  because  that  is  the  wiy  for  him  to  be  made 
6  perfect  and  entire.'1  '  He  inherits  the  promises 
through  faith  and  patience.'2  He  '  has  need  of  pa- 
tience, that,  after  he  has  done  the  will  of  God,'  and 
suffered  according  to  his  will,3  he  may  receive  the 
■promised  reward;  for  in  due  time  he  knows  6  he  shall 
reap,  if  he  faint  not.'4  He  knows  that  the  final  re- 
ward is  sure — that  it  will  come  at  last — and  that  it 

'  Jam.  i.  1.         2  Hcb.  vi.  12.  •  Heb.  x.  36.  4  Gal.  vi.  9. 


74  POPULAR    INFIDELITr. 

is  so  great  that  when  it  comes,  it  will  abundantly 
recompense  all  his  work,  yea,  and  patience  too.1  He 
has  in  the  most  trying  allotments  '  the  patience  of 
hope,'  the  sweetness  and  evenness  of  a  mind  at  peace 
with  God.  How  happy  then  is  he  that  truly  con- 
fides in  God;  that  has  <  his  fruit  unto  holiness,'  both 
6  the  hundredfold'  in  this  life,  and  in  the  end, 6  life 
everlasting!'2 

Now,  if  the  task  is  easier,  and  the  benefit  greater, 
what  can  excuse  our  folly  and  guilt,  or  rather  what 
can  make  them  greater,  if  we  will  not  give  up  our- 
selves to  be  ordered  by  his  guidance,  and  will  not 
submit  to  the  strokes  and  burdens  which  he  may  lay 
on  us?  The  task  is  easier,  for  nothing  is  harder 
than  to  strive  against  God,  and  to  have  all  our 
crosses  aggravated  and  our  pains  imbittered,  by 
restless,  corroding,  and  despairing  appetites  and  fu- 
ries. The  benefit  is  greater  than  if  we  could  by 
resistance  have  our  own  wills,  and  enjoy  the  world 
to  the  full:  for  '  God  is  not  unrighteous  to  forget' 
our  '  labour  of  love,'  and  our  '  patience  of  hope,'  and 
will  confer  on  us  a  great  and  eternal  reward.  But 
in  the  world  there  is  nothing  permanent  and  dura- 
ble; and  if  there  were,  it  would  not  be  suitable  to 
us,  because  how  long  soever  that  might  last  in  itself, 
yet  we  could  not.  last  to  enjoy  it.  Though  our  tem- 
1  Heb.  x.  37.         2Rom.  vi.  22.    Mark  x.  30. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  75 

poral  goods  and  comforts  were  not  movable,  yet  we 
are;  though  they  might  stay  with  us,  yet  we  could 
not  stay  with  them;  and  though  they  should  procure 
many  advantages  and  pleasures  for  us,  yet  that  would 
make  the  pain  and  loss  of  parting  with  them  greater, 
and  by  attaching  us  to  life  here,  might  cheat  us  out 
of  life  hereafter.  It  clearly  does  not  suit  our  best 
reason  to  be  greatly  anxious  for  distinctions  and 
eomforts  here;  but  there  is  as  much  true  reason  as 
piety  in  the  counsel,  to  be  '  always  abounding  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord,'  and  thai  upon  the  ground,  that 
c  we  know  our  labour  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.'1 

An  inordinate  love  of  the  world  in  some  shape  is 
a  principal  source  of  impatience,  murmuring,  and 
unbelief  among  Christians.  Every  thing  here  is  so 
uncertain  that,  unless  we  rest  upon  something  more 
stable,  we  shall  be  the  subjects  of  perpetual  change. 
When  the  world  rises  in  importance  to  us,  that  will 
magnify  our  disadvantages  and  losses,  and  propor- 
tionably  shut  out  from  our  view  the  objects  of  faith, 
and  from  our  hearts  the  comforts  of  our  interest  in 
them.  We  are  thus  borne  off  upon  a  dangerous  sea, 
without  any  certain  direction  and  object,  and  every 
wind  rocks,  and  troubles,  and  alarms  us.  If  we 
well  consider  it,  we  shall  learn  to  set  lightly  by 
creatures,  that  we  may  not  have  an  ill  farewell  with 
'  1  Cor.  xv.  58. 


76  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

them  at  last;  we  shall  not  envy  the  distinction  and 
happiness  of  those  worldly  minds  that  seem  to  reap 
the  fruit  of  their  service  and  toil  in  the  success  and 
glory  of  their  affairs.  They  find  but  a  show  and 
semblance  of  the  reality  which  they  seek  in  these 
things;  'they  weary  themselves  for  very  vanity;7 
they  fulfil  in  their  experience,  and  in  their  end, 
the  inspired  declaration,  *  man  walketh  in  a  vain 
shadow,  and  disquieteth  himself  in  vain.'1  Sorrow 
and  repentance  is  the  only  end  to  which  they  will 
come  at  last,  and  the  best  end  to  which  they  can 
come  in  time,  and  the  sooner  it  comes  the  better  for 
them;  'for  the  end  of  those  things,'  rested  in,  'is 
death.'2 

It  would  be  unaccountable  that  the  Christian,  who 
has  tasted  the  bitterness  of  sin,  and  the  sweetness 
of  pardon  and  hope,  who  has  been  under  the  conduct 
and  in  sight  of  the  world  to  come,  should  again  be 
found  spending  his  'money  for  that  which  is  not 
bread,  and  his  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not/ 
had  we  no  experience  of  his  infirmities,  and  his 
proneness  to  divide  the  heart  between  God  and  the 
world.  Hence  the  necessity  of  his  many  correc- 
tions and  sorrows.  Hence  we  discover  the  great 
goodness  and  wisdom  of  God,  in  the  uncertain  con- 
tinuance and  value  of  all  earthly  possessions.  He 
1  Psal.  xxxix.  6.  2  Rora>  v-u  2^ 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  77 

kindly  corrupts  these  streams  and  undermines  these 
foundations,  that  we  may  not  rest  here  to  our  harm. 
He  makes  '  the  way  of  the  transgressor  hard/  and 
blocks  up  the  '  broad  read'  of  sinners,  that  he  may 
win  them  by  present  difficulty  to  think  of  future 
good,  and  by*  the  present  poverty  of  their  joys,  to 
seek  that  '  fulness  of  joy  which  is  in  his  presence.' 
He  thus  sets  himself  like  a  sun  in  our  view,  serving 
us  by  that  which  we  deem  disservice,  and  enlighten- 
ing us  by  that  which  we  miscall  darkness.  If  that 
which  most  endangers  our  greatest  good  is  the 
greatest  evil,  then  prosperity  is  often  a  greater  evil 
than  adversity,  and  what  is  best  for  us  is  often  that 
which  is  most  painful,  and  most  nearly  slays  us  to 
the  world.1  The  vapours  and  clouds  which  gather 
in  the  sky,  always  leave  it  clearer  and  purer.  They 
obscure  for  a  while  the  lights  of  heaven,  but  these 
soon  come  out  again  with  a  softened  and  more  cheer- 
ful effulgence.  The  ancients  were  in  great  fear  and 
imagined  evil  from  the  eclipses  of  the  sun,  and  still 
the  sun  was  unchanged;  it  had  as  much  light  and 
-glory  as  ever,  as  many  planets  were  moved  by  its 
attraction,  and  only  the  harmless  shade  of  a  body 
that  could  never  shine,  except  in  a  lustre  not  its 
own,  had  got  between  them  and  the  delight  of  their 
eyes.     So  it  happens  in  lesser  systems,  in  our  own 

1  James  iv.  4 


78  £opulah  mxtwtiTt. 

experience.  When  darkness  or  tribulation  comes 
on  us,  we  are  apt  to  start  and  fear,  '  as  though  some 
strange  thing  had  happened  to  us.'1  The  comfortable 
countenance  of  the  '  Light  of  the  world'  is  perhaps 
"veiled  for  a  little^  and  we  are  left,  it  may  be.  to  be 
'  partakers/  though  slightly,  of  the  darkness  that  he 
experienced  in  the  extremity  of  his  suffering  for  our 
sakes;  but  it  ill  befits  us  to  complain,  to  despond,  to 
doubt  that  '  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,'  and  l  that 
We  shall  also  be  glad  in  it  with  exceeding  joy.'3 
These  things  should  not  move  us  out  of  our  course 
of  duty  or  stay  us  in  it;  but,  like  the  moon  when 
she  suffers  an  eclipse,  we  should  continue  on,  losing 
no  motion  and  no  order,  till  we  regain  that  presence 
of  which  we  are  deprived,  and  which  gives  us  alt 
the  glory  we  have,  whether  it  be  for  our  joy  or  fof 
the  light  and  comfort  of  others.  We  should  be  too- 
simple  to  wonder,  if  we  take  alarm  sometimes  where 
no  danger  is,  and  too  knowing,  though  knowing  so 
little,  to  be  confident  in  deciding  against  the  good- 
ness of  measures,  the  reasons  of  which  are  hid  in 
the  wisdom  of  God.  Alas!  that  we  should  ever 
in  our  troubles  charge  God  foolishly,  and  quickly 
conclude  that  all  these  things  are  against  us.  They 
come  not  because  God  is  willing  to  afflict,  but  to 
expose  our  dangers  and  defeat  our  foes.  They 
i  1  Pet.  iv.  12.  2  Ibid.  13. 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  70 

Would  call  us  off  from  the  world,  take  away  our 
false  dependencies,  and  make  us  confess  that  'all 
our  springs,'  those  of  comfort,  as  well  as  those  of 
strength,  are  '  in  him.'1  So  great  is  the  pride  and 
w-eakness  of  nature,  that  we  but  deceive  ourselves, 
if  we  think  it  safe  to  have  much  of  the  world  in  our 
hands.  Our  glory  is  to  live  above  it,  and  to  do  this 
is  to  '  live  by  faith  on  the  Son  of  God,'  for  c  this  is 
our  victory  over  the  world,  even  oUr  faith.'  Faith 
|3uts  down  the  world,  by  spreading  over  it  the  glory 
of  Christ,  the  bright  shadowing  of  *  better  things  to 
come.*  But  the  World,  rising  up,  fastens  on  our 
pride,  drives  us  from  a  throne  of  grace,  and  causes 
Us  to  come  to  God,  it  come  We  do,  with  greater 
thoughts  of  ourselves  than  of  him,  and  no  Wonder 
we  go  away  without  comfort;  for1  '  God  resisteth 
the  proud,  and  giveth  grace  only  to  the  humble.'2 
We  are  thus  left  to  our  complaints,  without  conso- 
lation and  without  freedom,  while  the  thoughts  and 
affections  of  the  truly  humble  and  faithful,  escape 
from  the  solitude  and  constraint  of  earth,  like  birds 
released  from  their  cage,  and  lose  themselves  in  the 
lustre  and  expanse  of  a  native  heaven.  As  the 
shaken  tree  roots  deeper,  as  the  blast  that  beats  down 
the  flame  causes  it  to  rise  higher,  so  they,  when 
brought  low  by  adversity,  mount  Upward,  and,  when 
1  Psal.  lxxxvii.  7.  2  James  iv.  6. 


SO  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

shaken  by  the  storms,  bind  themselves  closer  to  the 
rock  they  are  resting  on.  They  have  the  victory 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  come  what  will, 
come  sorrow  and  bereavement,  come  sickness  and 
death,  they  are  never  vanquished.  He  that  is  in 
them  is  '  greater  than  all.'  Such  is  the  reasoning 
and  the  operation  of  faith.  It  does  not  estimate  the 
events  of  life,  according  to  the  suggestions  of  a  world- 
ly policy.  Nothing  more  strongly  indicates  the  fatal 
prevalence  of  unbelief,  than  a  restless,  complaining 
spirit.  Such  a  mind  can  hardly  have  the  persuasion 
there  is  a  God;  much  less  can  it  have  a  due  impres- 
sion of  his  perfections.  It  feels  all  the  insecurity 
and  has  all  the  trouble  it  would,  if  God  had  made 
no  promises,  and  exerted  no  wisdom  and  power  to 
bring  all  things  to  a  just  and  happy  consummation. 
How  vain  the  resources,  how  dread  the  comforts 
of  a  faithless  mind  !  and  that  mind  is  essentially 
faithless  that  cannot  find  repose  in  the  arms  of  a 
universal  Providence,  and  rejoice  to  feel  its  care 
and  own  its  control.  Hanging  our  hopes  on  the 
Lord,  and  with  affections  deeply,  sweetly  rooted  in 
his  truth  and  perfections,  he  will  be  to  the  soul  in 
all  troubles,  as  a  great  shade  in  a  weary  land,  and  as 
the  morning  upon  the  face  of  nature,  both  its  joy 
and  its  glory. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  81 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Moral  worth  of  incidental  actions  and  opinions — Their  peculiarity  with 
reference  to  the  objects  of  faith — Proper  estimate  of  worldly  inte- 
rests— Singularity  of  religious  indecision — Its  contrariety  to  reason 
and  analogy — Casual  devotion — Its  absurdity — Its  action  consider- 
ed as  the  cause  and  fruit  of  infidelity — All  true  faith  considered 
as  necessarily  influential  in  proportion  to  the  value  of  its  object — 
Prevalent  inattention  to  the  Scriptures — Connexion  between  faith 
and  knowledge — Infidelity  of  those  who  give  but  a  casual  atten- 
tion to  religion — Their  hope — Their  conduct  contrasted  with  their 
faith  and  caution  in  business  affairs — Their  singular  inconsist- 
ency— The  faith  and  practice  of  a  nominal  believer  compared 
with  those  of  a  professed  infidel — What  there  is  to  choose  between 
them — Religious  pretenders — Their  liability  to  self-delusion  from 
the  facility  with  which  they  gain  credit. 

Actions  incidentally  and  coldly  performed,  opi- 
nions which,  like  the  features  of  the  face,  are  ours 
without  our  volition,  and  to  which  we  are  chiefly 
partial  because  they  are  ours,  though  ours  in  a  way 
which  we  cannot  account  for,  have  little  worth  in 
them.  They  are  merely  accidents  of  the  mind. 
There  is  neither  faith,  nor  heart,  nor  reason  in  them. 
Neither  are  they  instinctive,  for  instinctive  actions 
and  desires  have  a  suitable  end;  but  these  seem  to 
have  no  end  at  all;  none,  truly,  which  they  aspire  to 
with  that  consistency  which  should  entitle  them  to 
the  dignity  of  being  designed.     Still  the  religious 


S2  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

acts  and  opinions  of  many  seem  to  be  of  this  charac- 
ter. It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  persons,  without 
any  consciousness  of  the  process,  to  confound  truth 
and  error,  reason  and  fancy;  to  take  the  flashes  of 
the  animal  spirits  for  the  light  of  evidence;  to  think 
they  believe  things  to  be  true  or  false,  when  they 
only  fancy  them  to  be  so,  and  fancy  them  to  be  so, 
only  because  they  would  have  them  so,  or,  what  is 
easier,  because  such  is  the  fancy  of  others.  Such 
persons  have  an  accidental  faith  and  religion — con- 
veniences that  never  stand  in  the  way  of  their  de- 
sires. 

But  what  renders  this  peculiarity  worthy  of  par- 
ticular consideration  is,  that  it  respects  matters 
which  they  confess  to  be  of  greater  importance  than 
any  other,  and  matters  too  whose  nature  and  excel- 
lency must  strongly  engage  the  heart  which  they 
engage  at  all,  because  the  heart  will  love  something 
strongly  and  can  find  nothing  else  that  will  bear  a 
comparison  with  them — nothing,  indeed,  which  they 
do  not  make  a  trifle,  or  at  least  convert  into  a  mere 
hint  of  the  good  they  contain — causing  it,  whether 
by  its  worthlessness  or  value,  to  point  to  themselves, 
as  the  greatest  and  worthiest  objects  of  our  desire 
and  search.  That  from  persons  so  considering  them, 
these  objects  so  transcendent  and  inviting  that  they 
must   needs    transport  whom   they  engage,   should 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  83 

receive  only  a  casual  attention,  a  respect  so  much 
below  what  they  pay  to  other  things  that  it  seems 
more  like  an  intentional  slight,  than  a  conscious  ob- 
servation of  them — is  a  singularity  in  the  practice 
of  rational  creatures,  which  no  philosophy  could  lead 
us  to  presume,  and  no  discretion  allow  us  to  credit, 
if  we  did  not  see  it  daily  before  our  eyes. 

A  just  and  rational  appreciation  of  these  objects 
does  not  indeed  hinder  our  paying  to  worldly  ad- 
vantages a  due  regard,  neither  despising  nor  adoring 
them;  not  slighting  their  use  in  the  present  state 
nor  letting  them  abate  our  ardour  for  the  more  ex- 
cellent glory  and  riches  of  another;  not  depending 
on  them  for  distinction  and  happiness,  but  looking 
to  them  as  means  of  doing  good;  not  lifted  up  by 
the  influence  and  respect  which  they  procure,  so  as 
to  despise  others,  or  fall  into  the  weakness  of  esteem- 
ing ourselves  made  regal  and  absolute  by  them,  as 
petty  princes  often  are,  by  the  cringing  and  service 
of  minions,  of  whom  it  is  hardly  a  degradation  to 
affect  to  be  their  creatures,  but  still,  whose  import- 
ance is  shown  to  better  advantage  in  the  event,  than 
that  of  their  masters  who  take  their  consequence 
from  it,  and  are  induced  thereby  to  set  an  unnatural 
value  upon  their  smiles  and  lay  claim  to  that 
homage  from  equals  which  could  only  be  their  due 
as   the  creators  of  them.     If  religion   did   wholly 


84  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

and  arbitrarily  withdraw  men  from  the  pursuit  of 
worldly  interests,  it  would  be  strange,  as  things  are, 
if  they  did  not  act  counter  to  it;  but,  when  it  only 
claims  to  regulate  that  pursuit  and  to  turn  those  in- 
terests to  the  best  account,  making  them  all  subser- 
vient to  ends  which  are  acknowledged  to  be  unspeak- 
ably more  important,  yet  abstracting  nothing  from 
the  enjoyment  of  them  here;  it  is  passing  strange 
it  should  set  so  lightly  on  their  minds,  that  they 
scarcely  know  if  there  be  any  such  thing,  and  con- 
cern themselves  as  little  to  secure  it,  as  if  it  were 
but  a  mere  shadow  of  the  good  which  they  so 
eagerly  seek  from  this  troubled  and  uncertain  world. 
There  must  be  some  cause  of  this,  different  from 
any  to  which  it  is  usually  referred.  Their  conduct 
with  respect  to  all  other  objects,  bears  some  analogy 
to  their  professed  convictions;  but  this,  confessedly 
the  most  adorable  and  worthy  object,  is  contem- 
plated, if  contemplated  at  all,  with  a  kind  of  irreso- 
lution which  as  properly  bespeaks  their  dread  as 
their  desire  of  it — their  desire,  as  fearing  they  may 
need  it — their  dread,  as  not  relishing  its  excellence, 
and  as  having  insulted  and  forfeited  it  by  a  practical 
preference  of  other  interests  which  they  dare  not 
profess  to  esteem  before  it — leaving  them  in  a  state 
of  indecision,  wherein  their  thoughts  reach  not  to 
it,  and  rest  so  easily  with  them,  that  a  mere  profes- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  85 

sion  of  regard  to  it  comes  in  their  view  to  compen- 
sate for  the  want  of  regard  itself. 

This  singularity  of  which  we  are  speaking,  is 
often  found  in  the  character  of  men  who  are  so  very 
moral  in  most  respects,  that  it  would  seem  hardy  to 
deem  them  irreligious.  But,  as  God  has  given  rea- 
son only  to  man,  thus  making  him  a  noble  and  know- 
ing creature,  it  is  very  singular  that  man  should  em- 
ploy that  reason  in  all  his  moral  and  social  actions 
and  duties,  and  yet  only  do  the  acts  of  God's  worship 
and  service  with  indifferency  of  mind,  or  when  some 
great  event  or  calamity  rouses  him  to  it;  that  he 
should  perform  his  relative  duties,  his  duties  to  man 
with  such  design  and  constancy,  as  that  his  whole  life 
may  be  compared  to  a  volume  written  with  forecast 
of  the  ends  it  should  answer,  while  the  thoughts  and 
acts  which  signify  any  recognition  of  God  and  his 
claims,  are  but  the  parentheses  which  might  be  left 
out  without  breaking  the  sense,  and,  we  might  add, 
without  so  much  as  blemishing  the  morality  of  the 
author.  Such  casual  thoughts  and  devotions  do 
less  honour  than  injure  so  worthy  an  object  as  they 
aspire  to:  they  do  greatly  affront  the  Divine  Ma- 
jesty by  denying  to  him  the  chief  homage  of  that 
faculty  in  the  bestowing  of  which  he  has  chiefly  ho- 
noured us;  they  would  even  degrade  him  below 
ourselves,  by  apportioning  to  him  less  care  and 
8 


S6  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

respect  than  are  given  to  his  creatures;  paltry,  cost- 
less things  that  they  are,  they  would  take  the  place 
of  faith  and  devotion,  when  they  have  not  so  much 
of  the  grace  of  consideration  and  design,  as  is  ex- 
pressed in  an  idle  mimickry  of  them.  They  indeed 
evince  such  indifference  to  man's  most  weighty  con- 
cerns, such  misplacing  of  his  affections,  as  would 
leave  it  in  doubt,  if  we  knew  nothing  more  of  him, 
whether  he  be  a  rational  creature  or  no:  for  to  be 
*ble  to  think  of  God  as  a  being  proper  to  worship; 
to  be  capable  of  a  religious  sentiment,  of  a  spiritual 
advancement  and  attend  no  more  to  it;  to  trust  all 
which  he  owns  to  be  most  important  to  casual 
thoughts,  thoughts  which  he  neither  bids  nor  heeds, 
is  such  an  impertinence,  rather  such  an  impersonal- 
ity of  mind,  that  as  in  the  stare  of  idiocy,  we  cannot 
tell  whether  there  be  thought  in  it,  or  whether  it  be 
a  mere  animal  surprise. 

Such  absence  of  reason  and  consideration  in  the 
practice  of  man  in  reference  to  this  subject,  while 
in  theory  he  acknowledges  its  incomparable  import- 
ance, and  while  he  is  lively  to  the  obligation,  and 
thoughtful  in  the  discharge,  of  his  relative  duties,  is 
not  to  be  accounted  for  without  the  supposition  of 
that  darkness  and  unbelief  of  mind  which  shuts  out 
from  the  soul  all  communion  with  God  and  all  sen- 
sible realization  of  his  truth.     He  acts  a  part  so  un- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  87 

suitable  to  his  nature  and  interests,  that  we  should 
consider  it,  if  our  views  were  straight  on  this  sub- 
ject, proof  of  the  greatest  weakness  and  self-decep- 
tion, if  not  of  something  worse  and  wilder  On 
matters  of  astounding  moment  he  now  wills;  in  an 
instant  he  wills  not;  in  another  he  knows  not  whe- 
ther he  wills  or  no.  He  importantly  aims  at  no- 
thing, and  to  nothing  comes.  He  lives  and  dies 
unimproved  by  the  experience  of  others,  and  unim- 
proving  others  by  his  own.  Such  indecision,  such 
an  end  in  relation  to  the  affairs  of  the  world,  would 
indicate  an  abandonment  of  our  proper  nature,  and 
whatever  we  may  think  of  it  as  affecting  the  higher 
concerns  of  eternity,  certain  it  is  that  it  cannot  be 
the  fruit  of  considering  them;  and  not  to  consider 
them,  when  we  admit  our  high  concernment  in 
them,  and  are  summoned  to  it  by  so  many  argu- 
ments of  invitation  and  as  with  the  alarm-voice 
of  the  spirit  within  us  and  of  all  nature  around  us, 
is  to  despise  and  reject  them  as  in  our  slumbers,  and 
to  become  infidels,  if  not  by  the  action  of  our  rea- 
son, yet  by  the  chance  of  our  indifference. 

Such  treatment  of  the  claims  of  religion  is  the 
direct  effect  of  infidelity;  and  this  conviction  must  be 
theirs  who  will  consider  not  only  what  influence  the 
revealed  will  of  God  is  entitled  to  have,  but  what  it 
actually  has,  on  minds  that  believe  it.     Men  are 


SS  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

universally  curious  to  look  into  futurity,  and  to 
know  something  of  their  condition  after  death;  and 
nothing  could  be  more  worthy,  or  better  adapted,  to 
sway  their  conduct,  than  a  thorough  persuasion  of 
the  truth  of  the  revelation  which  God  has  made  on 
this  subject.  When  they  come  to  this  understand- 
ing, and  see  their  immortal  interests  side  by  side 
with  those  of  time;  when  they/ee/  that  there  is  but 
a  step  between  them  and  the  full  reality,  but  an  un- 
certain period,  (and  that  short  at  longest  and  unsatis- 
fying at  best,)  between  them  and  their  eternal  sepa- 
ration from  every  thing  the  heart  attaches  to  here, 
except  what  God  has  approved  and  set  apart  for 
heaven, — they  will  feel  the  actuating  spirit  of  the 
word,  and  if  they  do  not  6  become  whole,'1  will  at 
least  be  willing  to  consider  and  <  do  many  things.'2 
But,  as  the  case  often  stands,  they  come  far  short  of 
this:  they  honour  the  subject  only  with  casual  no- 
tices; they  want,  indeed,  the  sensibility  and  pur- 
pose about  it  of  the  judge  (have  they  more  merit 
than  he?)  who  said  within  himself,  '  Though  I  fear 
not  God,  nor  regard  man;  yet,  because  this  widow 
troubleth  me,  I  will  avenge  her;  I  will  do  what  is 
right  in  her  case,  that  I  may  be  rid  of  her  importu- 
nity.'3 Awakened  sinners  sometimes  attempt  to 
procure  relief  to  a  troubled  conscience  on  this  prin- 
1  John  v.  4.  2  Mark  vi.  20.  3  Luke  xviii.  4,  5. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  89 

tiple;  they  do  some  proper  things  as  with  impa- 
tience to  have  them  out  of  mind;  but  those  now 
under  consideration  are  not  awakened;  they  are  not 
troubled  with  their  sins,  and  of  consequence  do  lit* 
tie  or  nothing  to  procure  peace  by  good  works. 
They  have  good  works  to  be  sure,  but,  as  we  have 
remarked,  their  works  point  not  to  God,  but  to  their 
credit  and  influence  in  the  world,  to  the  endowment 
and  happiness  of  relatives  and  friends;  and  not  to  a 
preparation  of  themselves  and  others  for  heaven,  by 
the  control  and  subversion  of  sin  in  the  heart. 

All  belief  concerning  matters  of  importance,  espe- 
cially if  matters  necessarily  affecting  us,  or  affording 
the  means  of  securing  any  desirable  object,  will 
always  have  much  influence  on  a  sound  mind;  and 
this  is  not  more  true  with  respect  to  any  thing  than 
the  truths  of  religion.  These  truths  are  also  aided  in 
the  impression  which  they  are  adapted  to  make,  by 
the  conscience  of  man,  and  by  the  necessity  of  his 
nature  for  the  instruction  and  relief  which  they  fur- 
nish. Any  such  credit  of  them,  as  men  usually  give 
to  facts  and  statements  in  the  history  of  very  distant 
times  and  countries,  would  cause  them  to  take  an 
important  place  in  their  thoughts;  for  it  is  not  ne- 
cessary that  they  should  love  the  truth,  in  order  to 
feel  it,  any  more  than  it  is  necessary  that  they 
8* 


&0  POPULAR   tNFIDELlTlf. 

should  love  the  sun,  in  order  to  be  apprized  of  its 
heat.  Our  love  of  an  object  will,  indeed,  increase 
the  influence  of  our  faith  in  it,  by  disposing  us  to 
entertain  it  in  our  minds,  and  by  sweetly  confirm* 
ing  our  experience  of  it;  but  there  are  some  objects 
so  immense  and  glorious  that,  when  we  really  credit 
their  existence,  though  we  should  not  be  well  disposed 
towards  them,  they  will  take  hold  of  us  in  so  many 
Ways  that  we  shall  find  it  difficult  to  escape  from 
them;  and  the  very  effort  to  do  so>  may  make  u3 
more  sensible  of  our  trouble,  as  he  Would  be,  who 
should  shut  his  eyes  to  rid  himself  of  a  pain,  or  run 
to  get  out  of  the  light  of  day.  It  is,  therefore,  evi- 
dent that  such  persons,  as  we  have  described,  do  not 
credit  the  stupendous  truths  of  the  gospel.  They 
only  thtnk  they  do.  They  are  not  indeed  infidels 
on  the  ground  of  reflection  and  evidence,  and  per^ 
haps,  if  they  should  attempt  to  be,  it  would  result 
in  convincing  them  that  they  are  so  from  the  want 
of  it.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  haVe  infidelity  in  the 
heart,  guarding  as  '  a  strong  man  armed*  against  the 
entrance  of  truth,  and  another  thing  to  have  admit-* 
ted  it  there,  with  such  Understanding  as  that  we  can 
give  a  reason  of  it.  They  have  Clearly  not  done 
this:  still  they  are  not  alive  to  the  great  and  affect* 
Ing  truths  of  religion j  and  their  conduct,  contrasted 


Poplar  infidelity.  01 

with  that  of  those  who  are,  shows  that  they  have 
come  to  doubt  them  by  an  easier  way  than  that  of 
investigation. 

We  Can  have  no  better  proof  of  this,  than  their 
habitual  inattention  to  the  record  which  God  has 
given  of  his  Will.  This  record  is  as  the  letting 
down  of  heaVen  to  earth,  as  the  breaking  out  of  a 
Bun  upon  our  darkness.  It  is  the  Very  heart  of  love, 
the  mind  o(  God,  Conveyed  to  us  as  With  his  owri 
Voice  in  Jesus  Christ.  It  has  been  the  food  and  joy 
of  his  people  in  every  age.  Of  this  We  have  a  strik* 
ing  illustration  In  the  eager  desire  manifested  for  the 
Scriptures  at  an  early  period  of  the  reformation  m 
England.  "  Entire  copies  of  the  Bible,  When  they 
could  only  be  multiplied  by  means  of  amanuenses, 
Were  too  costly  to  be  within  the  reach  of  very  many 
readers;  but  those  Who  could  not  procure  the  <vo* 
lume  of  the  Book,'  would  give  a  load  of  hay  for  a 
few  favourite  chapters,  and  many  Such  scraps  were 
consumed  upon  the  persons  of  the  martyrs  at  the 
stake.  They  would  hide  the  forbidden  treasure 
under  the  floors  of  their  houses,  and  put  their  lives 
in  peril,  rather  than  forego  the  book  they  desired; 
they  would  sit  up  all  night,  their  doors  being  shut 
for  fear  of  surprise,  reading  or  hearing  others  read 
the  word  of  God;  they  would  bury  themselves  in 
the  woods,  and  there  converse  with  it  in  solitude \ 


92  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

they  would  tend  their  herds  in  the  fields,  and  still 
steal  an  hour  for  drinking  in  the  good  tidings  of 
great  joy: — thus  was  the  angel  come  down  to  trou- 
ble the  water,  and  there  was  only  wanted  some  pro- 
vidential crisis  to  put  the  nation  into  it,  that  it  might 
be  made  whole."1  This  desire  is  not  confined  to 
times  of  persecution.  It  is  the  outstanding  distinc- 
tion of  all  the  saints  who  have  their  record  in  the 
Bible,  and  the  mark  of  all  faithful  people.  They 
delight  in  the  Scriptures  <  after  the  inner  man,' 
make  them  their  '  meditation  all  the  day/  give 
heed  to  them  as  to  '  a  light  that  shineth  in  a  dark 
place,'2  ( get  understanding  through  them,  and  there- 
fore hate  every  false  way.'  And  if  they  who  pro- 
fess to  credit  them,  and  yet  give  them  only  casual 
thoughts,  and,  with  perhaps  the  exception  of  the 
lessons  appointed  for  Sunday,  read  them  less  than 
other  books,  and,  when  reading  them,  find  no  life, 
nor  sweetness,  nor  persuasion  in  them;  if  they  who 
take  it  for  granted  that  they  know  them,  and  there- 
fore do  not  seek  to  have  an  understanding  in  them, 
would  search  into  them,  as  into  depths  that  con- 
ceal the  richest  treasures,  they  would  soon  find  c  a 
light  from  heaven,  above  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 
shining  round  about  them,'  and  hear  ( a  voice  speak- 
ing unto  them,'  (which  now  they  do  not  so  much  as 
1  Blunt's  Sketch  of  the  Reformation  in  England.        2  1  Pet.  i.  19. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  93 

fancy  they  hear,)  and  saying,  *  This  is  the  way,  walk 
ye  in  it;'1  '  Walk  while  ye  have  the  light,  lest  dark- 
ness come  upon  you.'2  They  would  indeed  feel 
that  'the  water  was  troubled'  as  with  life  from 
above,  and  their  drinking  of  it  would  be  as  the  put- 
ting on  of  immortality.  The  Scriptures  have  an 
evidence  in  them  which  is  not  seen  by  glances; 
they  have  a  fire  in  them  which  must  be  mused  upon, 
before  it  will  begin  to  burn;  like  the  heavens,  they 
have  lights  and  wonders  in  them  which  are  not  seen 
by  common  gazers,  and  though  they  may  receive 
them  from  the  report  of  others  to  whom  they  have 
come  as  by  observation,  yet  it  is  as  things  of  which 
they  have  no  knowledge,  and  with  which  they  have 
no  means  of  communication. 

Casual  thinkers  on  religious  subjects  know  less 
of  the  Scriptures  than  they  suppose.  There  may 
be  nothing  in  them  which  they  have  not  heard  or 
read,  and  yet  scarcely  any  thing  which  they  have 
considered.  Nothing  important,  nothing  that  im- 
ports an  increase  of  understanding,  was  ever  ac- 
quired in  this  way.  So  much  wisdom  on  this 
subject  is  taken  for  granted,  that,  like  the  knowledge 
of  ourselves,  it  is  likely  to  be  most  defective  when 
it  is  deemed  most  complete.  But  faith  and  know- 
ledge go  'Hand  in  hand,'  and  when  one  is  indistinct, 
'Isa.  xxx.  21.  2Johnxii.  35. 


94  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

both  are.  When  we  are  content  with  guesses  in 
place  of  knowledge,  our  faith  at  most  is  but  a 
peradventure  ;  it  is  not  the  stay  of  the  mind,  but  a 
broken  wing,  which,  while  it  indicates  that  we  were 
designed  for  noble  flights,  proves  that  we  are  disabled 
for  them.  If  it  give  a  look  towards  God  and  duty, 
it  is  as  the  look  of  <  eyes  which  see  not,'  while  the 
secret  current  of  feeling  and  influence  sets  all  the 
other  way.  This  must  be  so,  unless  we  have  a  faith 
which  prompts  us  to  serve  God,  because  we  know 
him,  or  to  seek  him,  because  we  know  him  not. 
Thus  faith  always  runs  either  in  or  after  knowledge, 
and  knowledge  turns  to  a  happy  experience  first, 
and  then  to  assurance  and  complete  blessedness. 
Hence  to  know  God  is  to  enjoy  him  by  way  of 
experience,  as  well  as  '  to  have  eternal  life'1  by  way 
of  reward.  But  to  know  him  is  first  '  to  know 
Jesus  Christ  whom  he  hath  sent ;'  for  <  no  man 
knoweth  who  the  Father  is  but  the  Son,  and  he 
to  whom  the  Son  will  reveal  him.'2  He  has 
spoken  and  acted  out  his  will  in  our  nature;  he 
is  the  'way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,  and  to  as 
many  as  receive  him,  he  gives  power  to  become 
the  sons  of  God.'  To  know  him,  then,  is  to  know 
God,  and  know  him,  too,  in  a  way  that  is  as  obliging 
as  it  is  condescending,  and  should  be  as  grateful  as 
1  John  xxii.  3.    Comp.  Rom.  ii.  23.  2  Luke  x.  22. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  95 

it  is  honourable  to  our  nature.  Truly  it  is  no  diffi- 
cult science  which  we  are  to  learn,  no  cold  abstrac- 
tion which  we  are  to  study,  but  the  simple  truth, — 
the  life  coming  to  us  all  animated  as  with  our  own 
sympathies, — nothing  but  an  experience  which  we 
are  to  make  our  own,  and  that,  the  experience  of 
the  Father's  Well-beloved, — blessed  in  him  in  all  but 
what  he  endured  for  our  sakes, — in  us  blessed  with 
all  the  sweetening  his  love  can  give  it,  and  ending  in 
*  all  the  fulness  of  God!'  It  is  this  knowledge  of 
God  which  natural  men  have  not ;  and  it  is  a  great 
aggravation  of  the  guilt  of  their  unbelief  and  hard- 
ness, that  it  is  a  knowledge  which  is  proposed  to 
them  warm  as  with  the  kindliest  affection  for  them, 
and  commended  to  them  as  a  tried  experience  of 
their  necessities.  Were  there  nothing  tender  and 
lively  in  it,  it  would  not  be  so  strange,  though  strange 
it  were,  that  they  should  be  unbelieving.  But  the 
truth  to  be  believed  is  as  well  adapted,  as  it  is  worthy, 
to  affect  their  hearts;  and  if  they  give  it  only  a  loose 
and  Unstudied  entertainment,  a  forced  and  outward 
obedience,  it  is  the  best  possible  proof  that  they  do 
as  little  know  as  believe  it.  They  may  have  no 
suspicion  that  they  are  ignorant  of  God.  They  may 
have  grown  up  with  some  vague  impressions  of  his 
being  and  attributes,  which  they  dignify  with  the 
name  of  knowledge,  but,  though  the  real  'sons  of 


96  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

Eli,'  they  '  are  the  sons  of  Belial,  who  know  not 
the  Lord.'1  They  walk  in  the  vanity  of  their 
minds,  ( being  alienated  from  the  life  of  God 
through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  them.'2  To  this 
we  are  taught  to  ascribe  '  the  blindness  of  their 
hearts,'  and  the  unfruitfulness  of  their  lives.  They 
are  indeed  alienated  from  God  through  ignorance. 
This  is  the  great  cause  of  their  unbelief  and  hardi- 
ness in  transgression  ;  and  they  must  feel  after  him 
by  knowledge,  before  they  can  reasonably  expect  to 
find  him  by  faith.  They  must  become  ignorant 
by  a  persuasion  that  they  are  so,  before  they  can 
become  wise  by  an  understanding  of  what  wisdom 
is.  They  must  search  the  Scriptures  if  in  them 
they  think  they  have  eternal  life,  and  through  them 
come  first  to  the  i  break  of  day.' 

After  taking  a  view  of  the  '  dark  ages'  in  which 
men  were  corrupted  by  ignorance,  and  content 
with  mere  glimpses  of  knowledge,  "  what,"  says 
Dr.  Good,  "  is  the  upshot  of  the  whole  ? — the  moral 
that  the  survey  inculcates?  Distinctly  this;  a  mo- 
ral of  the  utmost  moment,  and  imprinted  on  every 
step  we  have  trodden — that  ignorance  is  ever  asso- 
ciated with  wretchedness  and  vice,  and  knowledge 
with  virtue  and  happiness."  This  moral  is  as 
clearly  illustrated  in  the  life  of  individuals  as  in 
l  1  Sam.  ii.  12.  2  Eph.  iv.  18. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  97 

the  history  of  nations — in  the  experience  of  a  single 
Christian  as  in  that  of  the  church  of  Christ.  Divine 
truth,  as  imbodied  and  shadowed  forth  in  the  Scrip- 
tures and  in  the  lives  of  Christians,  is  the  *  salt  of 
the  earth,'  the  *  light  of  the  world ;'  and,  where  it 
is  not  known  and  heeded,  corruption  and  darkness 
must  prevail.  The  amount  of  its  influence  must 
also  depend  upon  the  degree  of  attention  that  is 
given  to  it.  Cold  and  incurious  thoughts  will  not 
answer  the  purpose.  There  is  a '  secret  of  the  Lord* 
in  his  word  which  does  not  come  out  of  it  unsought, 
like  a  flash  of  lightning  or  a  dash  of  rain  from  the 
cloud.  It  is  disclosed  to  waiting  and  attentive  eyes, 
not  suddenly  and  fully,  but  by  a  way  of  gradual  dif- 
fusion which  makes  it  more  a  part  of  ourselves,  or 
rather  ourselves  indeed,  than  our  acquirement — we 
being  made  thereby  '  partakers  of  a  divine  nature.' 
God  does  not  intend  that  we  shall  have  the  best 
things,  if  we  will  not '  search  diligently  until  we  find 
them.'  We  are  not  to  pass  from  poverty  to  riches, 
from  ignorance  to  knowledge,  from  a  state  of  sin  to 
a  state  of  faith  and  holiness,  in  a  moment,  and  with- 
out an  effort.  And  were  we  as  practical  and  wise 
with  respect  to  divine  as  other  things,  we  should 
not  look  for  this  latter  change  without  great  effort, 
nor  should  we  be  deterred  by  that  necessity  from 

applying  our  mind  to  it,  unless  indeed  the  object 
9 


98  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

were  deemed  undeservable  in  comparison  with 
others.  So  that  it  is  not  the  requisite  effort  that 
deters  us  from  the  pursuit  of  divine  knowledge,  but 
our  low  appreciation  of  it — our  utter  unbelief  in 
regard  to  the  great  interest  we  have  in  it.  Were 
there  no  want  of  faith  in  this  latter  sense,  we  should 
soon  know  that,  as  *  the  kingdom  of  heaven  suf- 
fereth  violence/  so  do  '  the  violent  take  it  by  force.'1 
We  should  not  wonder  that  we  are  required  to  do  so 
much,  but  that  so  much  may  be  gained  by  the  little 
that  we  can  do.  We  should  not  so  easily  satisfy 
ourselves  with  the  acting  of  religion  on  holy  days, 
and  in  an  outward  compliance  with  its  forms  and 
customs.  We  should  not  find  it  so  difficult  to  call 
off  our  thoughts  from  the  world,  and  to  turn  them  to 
heaven  with  designs  and  desires  carrying  us  there. 
Our  first  wonder  would  be  that  there  is  a  heaven 
for  us, — our  greater  wonder,  that  it  should  be  pro- 
cured at  an  expense  so  great  that  we  cannot  tell 
which  is  greatest,  the  love  which  bore  it,  or  the 
guilt  which  made  it  necessary.  Our  strongest  de- 
sire to  be  there  would  be  that  we  may '  be  for  ever 
with  the  Lord,'  who  is  such,  and  could  love  us  so, 
that  our  loving  him  is  not  so  much  his  will,  as  our 
privilege,  and  not  so  much  his  glory,  as  we  would 
make  it  ours.  Faith  indeed  would  set  every  thing 
1  Matt.  xi.  12. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  99 

right  in  the  dispensations  and  requirements  of  God, 
and  make  religion,  not  our  trouble  and  hinderance, 
but  our  help  and  delight — the  work  and  end  for 
which  we  came  into  the  world.  It  would  not  suffer 
us  to  '  halt  between  two  opinions,'  or  to  be  without 
any  opinion  at  all ;  to  be  satisfied  with  occasional 
compunctions  and  partial  reformations;  to  be  scared 
from  one  indulgence  by  fear,  and  tempted  from 
another  by  interest,  and  allied  to  others  by  inclina- 
tion; to  talk  devotion  and  humility,  and  yet,  without 
discomposure,  to  retain  pride  and  to  practise  self- 
interest.  It  is  a  modest  grace,  which,  while  it  con- 
fides in  the  promises  of  God,  blushes  with  the  shame, 
and  labours  with  the  distrust,  of  a  wicked  and  deceit- 
ful heart.  It  is  satisfied  only  with  the  complete 
likeness  of  its  object. 

How  different  then  is  the  work  of  faith  from  the 
conduct  of  those  whose  character  has  been  under 
review!  Giving  to  the  truths  and  duties  of  religion 
but  an  outside  and  casual  respect,  they  live  in  an  in- 
curious, ignorant,  and  unrelenting  condition.  They 
are  not  sufficiently  conversant  with  them  to  imbibe 
any  influence  from  them,  nor  sufficiently  thoughtful 
of  them  to  have  any  certain  persuasion  of  their 
obligation.  Persons  of  this  description  have  various 
shades  of  character.  In  some  infidelity  is  more 
speculative ;    in    others    there    seems   to   be   little 


100  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

speculation  about  it,  and  it  only  shows  itself  in  the 
pernicious  fruits  of  their  lives  and  manners;  but 
we  'know  them  all  by  their  fruits.'  They  are  found 
everywhere  in  the  ranks  of  those  who  speak  favour- 
ably of  Christianity,  who  attend  places  of  worship, 
and  who  alike  feel  themselves  insulted  and  scan- 
dalized when  they  are  charged  with  infidelity;  yet 
nothing  is  more  just.  We  need  not,  and  they  need 
not,  be  mistaken.  There  is  no  profit  in  delusion. 
There  is  no  charity  in  concealing  the  truth.  Infi- 
delity runs  in  their  speculations,  oozes  up  in  their 
worldly  musings,  and  comes  fully  out  in  their  drift 
and  habits.  The  religion  of  the  best  of  them 
amounts  only  to  a  state  of  indifference  and  luke- 
warmness;  but  the  worst  have  too  much  moderation 
and  taste  in  sinning  to  '  glory  in  their  shame,'  or  to 
'  suffer  the  sickness  of  their  drunkenness,  and  yet  call 
it  pleasure:'  they  are  not  so  far  gone  in  iniquity;  but 
with  respect  to  the  infidelity  of  all,  we  may  say  what 
was  said,  by  one1  of  their  own  number,  of  the  popes 
of  Rome:  "No  man  looks  for  holiness  in  the  bishops 
of  Rome ;  those  are  the  best  popes  who  are  not 
extremely  wicked."  They  all  have  a  certain  faith, 
and  the  chief  mischief  of  their  state  is,  that  they 
seem  to  think  that  if  they  were  infidels,  they  should 

1  Papirius  Massonius. — See  Jeremy  Taylor's  Sermon  on  Growth 
in  Grace. 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  101 

have  no  faith  at  all.  This  is  a  great  mistake.  They 
would  then,  as  now,  believe  and  not  tremble,  have 
convictions,  and  presumptions,  and  hopes  (all  dis- 
turbers only)  of  acquaintance  and  happiness  with 
God,  while  wrapt  in  their  own  darkness,  and  loving 
that  darkness  well.  They  must  look  elsewhere,  if 
they  would  find  a  difference  between  themselves  and 
professed  infidels.  They  are  on  the  same  track 
with  them  here,  and  the  only  difference  is,  that  some 
have  the  start  of  others. 

This  conclusion  will  be  confirmed  by  a  more  par- 
ticular view  of  their  conduct.  If  we  analyze  their 
hope,  it  will  be  found  like  their  worship,  a  casualty, 
an  incident  like  our  thousand  wishes,  that  come  and 
go  we  cannot  tell  why  or  whither.  Such  wishes  are 
the  drones  that  feed  on  our  stores,  but  add  nothing 
to  them.  They  return  empty  from  all  their  excur- 
sions; and  so  the  hope  of  many  not  only  does  not 
work  any  good,  but  hinders  them  from  working  any, 
by  imposing  on  them  the  belief  that  it  does.  It 
not  only  lives  at  their  expense,  but  it  reconciles 
them  to  remain  out  of  true  possession,  by  keeping 
in  their  view  the  deceitful  colours  of  the  prospect. 
While  they  recede  from  it  by  the  visible  bias  and 
action  of  their  spirits,  its  false  lights  beguile  them 
to  think  they  are  drawing  near  to  it.  Its  reasoning 
is:  I  shall  be  happy  hereafter  in  him  towards  whom 
9* 


102  POPULAR   IXFIDELITT. 

I  live  in  habitual  disaffection  now.  I  shall  covet 
then  that  glorious  Presence  which  now  I  do  not  so 
much  as  seek,  and  cannot  so  much  as  enjoy.  I  can 
be  happy  in  him  whom  I  do  not  love,  and  love 
whom  I  do  not  know.  I  depend  upon  his  favour, 
but  my  Way  of  inviting  and  securing  it  is  to  live 
as  without  him;  to  keep  myself  a  stranger  to  him 
while  he  gives  me  good  things  to  enjoy,  and  to  fly 
to  him  at  last,  when  nothing  else  is  left  to  lean  upon. 
I  would  remain  as  I  am,  but,  as  I  cannot,  I  am 
willing,  when  I  must  go,  to  be  taken  to  the  bliss 
of  heaven,  and,  though  that  be  not  bliss  to  me 
now,  I  can  trust  to  his  mercy  to  make  it  so  then. 
In  this  distant  region  where  his  communications 
are  obscure  and  restrained,  I  see  that  his  goodness 
abounds,  and  why  should  I  doubt,  when  the  time  for 
full  rewards  and  disclosures  shall  come,  that  it  will 
much  more  abound ;  that  it  will  at  least  then  meet  the 
new  and  peculiar  exigencies  of  creatures  for  whom 
now  he  provides  with  a  father- s  care,  not  discrimi- 
nating between  the  evil  and  the  good,  but  embracing 
them  all  as  children, erring  children,  yet  children  still? 
Such  is  their  case.  They  are  believers  and  doers 
of  'many  things.'  Their  condition  differs  little  from 
the  common  state  of  the  unconverted,  and  that  dif- 
ference, with  respect  to  great  numbers,  is  to  their 
advantage.     We  are,  then,  concerned  to  understand 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  103 

their  faith,  and  to  fix  a  definite  character  upon  it 
This  we  may  be  aided  to  do  by  considering  the 
correspondence  between  their  faith  and  practice  in 
worldly  business.  We  see  nothing  left  to  chance 
here,  and  nothing  done,  without  a  designing  and 
adapting  of  means  to  ends.  They  consider  the  ne- 
cessities of  the  country,  and  the  places  where  their 
business  will  be  most  likely  to  succeed.  They  watch 
the  changes  in  the  market,  the  signs  of  the  times,  the 
agitations  and  revolutions  of  governments,  the  suc- 
cess or  failure  of  those  around  them,  prying  into  the 
causes  of  each,  and  taking  every  warning  and  ad- 
vantage from  them,  in  the  management  of  their  own 
affairs.  In  this  way  they  acquire  a  business-faith, 
which  is  based  upon  reasonable  evidence — a  busi- 
ness-caution, which  shows  their  profiting  by  the 
skill,  the  rashness,  or  miscarriage  of  others — and  a 
business-discernment,  which  qualifies  them  to  detect 
good  and  evil  in  their  signs.  And  they  act  out 
these  acquirements  ;  they  measure  their  steps,  and 
consider  the  effect  of  each  on  the  event  of  their 
affairs;  they  see  quickly  where  to  apply  their  force, 
and  their  zeal,  their  activity,  quickens  with  every 
new  proof  that  it  will  accomplish  its  design.  If  they 
meditate  changes  in  their  residence,  their  employ 
ment,  or  their  style  of  living,  they  study  into  the 
present  and  future  consequences,  and  endeavour  to 


104  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

adapt  their  tastes  and  habits  to  them ;  if  they  are  to 
come  into  the  presence  of  wise  men  or  princes,  they 
are  intent  to  know  how  they  shall  speak,  and  carry 
themselves  suitably  to  their  character  and  station, 
not  seeming  to  be  unapprized  of  their  own  inferior 
ity,  nor  affronting  the  dignity  which  they  wish  to 
propitiate ;  if  a  great  end  is  to  be  gained  by  extra 
ordinary  effort,  or  the  most  difficult  adventures  are 
believed  likely  to  lead  on  to  fortune  or  other  dis- 
tinction, they  run  the  greatest  hazards,  endure  the 
greatest  hardships,  traverse  continents,  cross  oceans, 
(asking  perhaps  the  prayers  of  the  church,  and  so 
far  well  doing,  yet  asking  it  for  a  safe  conduct  in 
securing  temporal  advantages,  when  they  seldom 
think,  and  might  scorn  perhaps,  to  ask  the  same 
assistance  to  secure  eternal,)  and  do  all  things  with 
a  care  and  sagacity  well  worthy  of  rational  beings: 
but  how  changed,  how  adverse  to  this,  is  the  opera- 
tion of  their  faith  in  spiritual  concerns!  Professing 
to  admit  their  claim  upon  their  first  attention,  and 
their  unequalled  value  to  themselves,  yet  putting 
them  off  with  occasional  thoughts,  suffering  the  re- 
membrance of  them  to  be  merged  in  the  stream  of 
other  imaginations,  or  perhaps  bidding  them  begone, 
in  impatience  of  their  restraints  ;  expecting,  they 
know  not  how  soon,  to  enter  into  the  bright  pre- 
sence of  God,  angels,  and  just  spirits,  and  to  have  their 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  105 

heaven  in  a  holy  communion  with  them,  yet  omit- 
ting every  preparation  for  it,  and  not  even  inquiring 
how  they  shall  deport  themselves  before  the  Majesty 
on  high,  or  conform  to  the  services  and  usages  of  his 
court;  believing  that  after  death  the  greatest  possi- 
ble change  will  take  place  in  their  residence,  their 
enjoyments,  their  pursuits,  yet  not  caring  to  temper 
and  mould  themselves  to  it,  but  rushing  upon  that 
which  is  of  the  greatest  interest  to  them,  as  if  they 
had  no  part  in  it,  or  shutting  their  eyes  to  the  event, 
when  its  shadows  come  over  them  and  its  steady 
approach  cannot  be  doubted  :  never,  indeed,  com- 
puting their  advances,  as  well  pleased  to  be  receding 
from,  as  approaching  to,  their  object;  never  heeding 
the  port  or  surprisal  of  the  multitude,  but  walking 
with  composure  after  them,  though  their  lights  are 
going  out  in  despair  by  the  way ;  never  acquiring 
any  faith,  any  caution,  any  discernment  in  spiritual 
things ;  in  nothing  manifesting  the  thought,  the 
engagedness,  the  resolution  with  which  they  pursue 
the  world,  but  all  the  capabilities  of  spiritual  life 
sinking  and  dying  within  them  (as  before  the  time) 
without  so  much  as  the  appearance  of  a  death-strug- 
gle or  a  death-sigh  for  better  things! 

If  a  man  should  conduct  thus  in  his  temporal 
affairs,  all  would  say  he  had  no  faith  in  the  success 
of  his  exertions,  or  did  not  value  the  objects  to  be 


106  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

gained  by  them.  But  should  he  claim  to  believe 
that  all  worldly  advantages  were  within  his  reach, 
and  to  set  the  highest  value  upon  them,  and  yet 
conduct  in  this  manner,  we  should  either  set  him 
down  for  a  blockhead,  a  deranged  person,  or  one 
who  had  added  to  the  want  of  such  faith  the  hypo- 
crisy of  professing  to  have  it.  And  should  he  set 
up  in  some  particular  business,  and  give  only  casual 
thoughts  to  it,  never  seeming  to  make  it  the  object 
of  pursuit,  or  to  be  concerned  whether  he  prospered 
in  it  or  no,  and  yet  claim  credit  from  others  on  the 
ground  of  such  business  so  attended  to,  he  would 
not  only  be  distrusted,  but,  if  he  persevered  in  this 
course,  denounced  as  desiring  to  conceal  his  evil  con- 
dition, and  to  contract  debts  which  he  had  not  the 
means  or  expectation  of  discharging.  With  what 
grace,  then,  does  he  ask  us  to  give  him  credit  for 
faith  in  the  gospel,  who  leaves  his  whole  concern 
in  it  'at  loose  ends,'  and  is  content  to  float  upon 
the  stream  that  is  bearing  him  from  God,  with  a 
force  that  increases  with  the  distance,  and  will  soon 
make  his  return  impossible?  Why  should  he  not 
be  considered  and  treated  as  an  infidel  ?  Has  he  a 
kind  of  faith  in  these  things?  So  has  the  infidel,  but 
nobody  can  tell  what  it  is,  or  what  it  does,  in  either 
case, — unless,  indeed,  it  deters  them  both,  like  the 
faith  of  failing  tradesmen,  from  looking  into  their 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  107 

affairs,  lest  they  should  have  a  fuller  view  of  their 
ruin.  It  is  not  a  faith  which  breeds  caution  and 
solicitude,  but  that  improvidence  which  shuts  its 
eyes  and  concludes,  if  conclude  it  ever  does,  to  take 
things  as  they  come.  Infidelity  in  both  is,  as  ever, 
a  lazy,  dreamy  vice ;  in  quiet  the  most  stupid,  in 
rage  the  most  terrible  of  creatures,  but,  what  is 
remarkable,  blind  alike  in  its  rage  and  mildness. 
But  we  see  nothing  in  them  of  the  grace  of  faith, 
that  birth  of  intelligence,  which,  fixing  its  far-reach- 
ing eye  on  things  not  discernible  by  sense,  admits 
now,  of  a  repose  that  is  sweet  and  lively,  and  now, 
of  an  excitement  that  is  great  and  burning,  yet  in 
order  but  as  reason,  and  in  noise  but  as  light  in 
motion.  If  we  judge  of  them  by  their  spirit,  we 
see  no  difference ;  if  by  their  works,  we  see  both 
breaking  the  same  ground,  and  looking  for  the  same 
increase.  Both  '  sow  to  the  flesh,  and  of  the  flesh 
reap  corruption'  daily  and  visibly.  Both  are  self- 
confident,  self-complacent,  indisposed  to  devotion, 
and  < trusting  in  themselves  that  they  are  righteous.' 
Both  are  disposed  to  carry  this  impression  as  far 
as  they  can,  and  when  they  make  it  succeed  with 
men,  to  take  that  for  an  argument  that  it  will 
pass  for  a  reality  with  God.  Both  are  the  willing 
dupes  of c an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,'  and,  in  spiritual 
matters,  c  grope  as  if  they  had  no  eyes.'     Both  have 


108  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

a  price  all  price  beyond,  put  into  their  hands  to  get 
wisdom — the  one  openly  discrediting  its  value,  and 
thinking  himself  wise  and  good  enough  without  it — 
the  other  putting  upon  it  all  manner  of  professed 
respect,  and  acknowledging  bis  folly  and  destitution 
without  it,  yet  burying  it  in  the  earth  as  a  talent 
which  he  cares  not  to  employ;  and,  if  neither  the 
priest  nor  the  Levite,  but  <  a  certain  Samaritan'  was 
'  neighbour  to  him  that  fell  among  thieves,'  which 
of  these  is  the  believer?  Which  treats  his  Lord 
with  most  reverence — he  that  discredits  the  gift  and 
his  need  of  it,  or  he  that  professes  to  credit  both  and 
does  not  act  conformably  to  either?  he  who  rejects 
the  offer  which  he  thinks  made  to  him  without 
authority,  or  he  who  affects  to  receive  it  as  of  the 
authority  which  it  claims,  and  yet  never  attempts  to 
possess  himself  of  the  good  it  proposes?  Which 
has  the  most  fear  of  God — he  that  sins  largely  as 
doubting  his  word,  or  he  that  deliberately  sins 
enough  as  believing  it  to  incur  his  just  displeasure 
forever?  he  that  sees  God  as  angry  with  the  wicked 
every  day,  and  is  every  day  sinning,  or  he  that  sees 
him  only  as  indifferent  to  human  actions,  and  con- 
tinues to  do  what  he  will?  Which  should  we  think 
the  better  man — he  who  receives  our  bounties  and 
favours  as  thinking  they  came  from  us,  yet  never 
returns    any   thanks    or    discharges    any    obligation 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  109 

they  lay  on  him,  or  he  that  receives  them,  as  he 
does  the  showers  of  heaven,  by  the  chance  or  right 
of  his  condition,  and  as  little  thinks  of  his  duty  to 
us  as  of  the  clouds  that,  without  mind,  drop  down 
the  rain?  he  that  pays  us  an  external  respect  and 
deference  because  he  thinks  it  shall  profit  him,  or 
he  that  passes  us  by  as  though  we  were  not,  and  is 
as  regardless  of  his  own  interests  as  of  our  rights  ? 
What,  indeed,  shall  we  think  of  the  faith  of  those 
who  give  to  the  commands  of  God  but  an  incidental 
and  unstudied  obedience?  who  believe  too  much, 
or  rather  cannot  doubt  enough  to  enable  them  to 
discard  him  from  their  thoughts  altogether,  and  yet 
are  content  with  thoughts  which  have  no  motive  to 
his  glory,  and  do  as  little  restrain  and  temper  them 
as  honour  him?  who  take  credit  to  themselves  for 
acknowledging  obligations  to  which  their  whole  life 
is  as  an  act  of  untiring  resistance?  who  entertain 
him  in  their  loneliness,  not  as  a  friend  from  whom 
they  have  nothing  to  conceal,  with  confidence  and 
affection,  but  as  a  stranger  of  doubtful  appearance, 
with  coldness,  with  suspicion,  and  dread?  What, 
indeed,  shall  we  think  of  those  who  can  contemplate 
(believingly,  as  they  say)  the  most  affecting  and 
worthy  objects  '  without  any  thoughts  arising  in 
their  hearts?'  who  can  move  on,  already  in  the 
10 


110  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

<  shadow  of  death,'  with  eyes  open  on  eternity, 
while  the  question  of  their  love  to  God  hangs  in 
doubt,  and  this,  though  they  cannot  tell  which  is 
the  most  wonderful,  the  greatness  of  his  love  to 
them,  or  the  happy  and  glorious  effects  and  issues 
of  their  loving  him?  who  have  it  in  their  faith, 
that  he  is  'a  consuming  fire'  to  the  wicked,  and 
yet,  without  any  invitation  or  permission  to  treat 
with  him  in  their  own  persons,  venture  before  him 
with  a  plea  of  personal  merit,  with  a  price  in  their 
hand,  the  hire  of  service,  which  is  to  buy  them 
pardon  and  eternal  life, — thus  making  his  wisdom 
foolishness,  and  dispensing  with  the  atonement  and 
offices  of  his  Son? — and  this,  too,  when  it  is  another 
part  of  their  faith  to  depend  solely  on  him ;  to 
believe  that  many  who  i  in  that  day  cry  Lord,  Lord, 
have  we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name?  and  in  thy 
name  done  many  wonderful  works?'  shall,  as  at  the 
very  entrance  of  heaven,  find  destruction  bursting 
upon  them  from  the  words,  *  I  never  knew  you  : 
depart  from  me.'  You  have  slighted  my  blood, 
my  grace,  my  promises,  my  infinite  compassions, 
and  now  come  with  the  offering  of  your  merits  in 
their  place.  I  have  wrought  out  for  you  a  perfect 
righteousness,  and,  not  accepting  it,  you  have  gone 
about  to  establish  a  righteousness  of  your  own.  I 
have  borne  the  punishment  of  your  sins,  but  you 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  Ill 

have  not  borne  my  cross,  and  you  can  have  no  part 
in  my  joy  and  glory. 

All  the  analogies  of  human  conduct  lead  us  to  infer, 
and  we  should  not  be  surprised  to  find,  that  deception 
is  sometimes  practised  in  religion.  If  men  can  gain 
any  advantage  by  it,  it  is  not  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  they  will  abstain  from  it  in  this  any  more  than 
in  other  cases.  If  they  will  do  penance,  cut  and 
deform  their  bodies,  perform  pilgrimages,  persecute 
and  put  to  death  <  the  saints  of  the  Most  High'  and 
think  they  do  him  acceptable  services,  why  should 
it  be  doubted  that  they  may  do  much  to  work  out 
a  righteousness  of  their  own,  make  c  long  prayers' 
and  a  great  show  of  humility  and  zeal,  by  which  the 
same  end  is  to  be  effected  with  less  expense  and  less 
pain  to  nature,  when  they  have  not  a  particle  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Master  they  affect  to  serve  ?  All,  no 
doubt,  do  something  in  this  way;  but  the  wonder  is 
that  they  do  no  more;  though  doing  less  or  more 
would  leave  them  alike  faithless.  The  omission  is 
only  to  be  accounted  for  on  the  ground  of  their 
disrelish  to  spiritual  virtues,  and  of  the  little  profit 
they  derive  from  the  credit  of  them.  Still,  a  self- 
righteous,  and  therefore  a  faithless  spirit,  actuates 
the  religion  of  many.  Caring  much  for  the  re- 
putation, and  something  for  the  reality,  of  piety, 
without  perhaps  intending  deception  they  come  by 


112  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

degrees  to  claim  stoutly  the  excellence  which  others, 
in  their  charity,  presume  them  to  have.  No  one  is 
disposed  to  call  in  question  their  Christian  preten- 
sions; and  being  without  that  brokenness  of  heart 
and  faith  in  Christ  which  cause  them  to  fly  from  them- 
selves for  support  and  direction,  they  walk  in  the 
sight  of  their  own  eyes,  and  take  the  outside  for  the 
inward  life  of  religion.  This  they  can  maintain 
without  any  modification  of  their  natural  desires; 
and,  as  it  procures  for  them  some  peace  of  con- 
science, and  much  confidence  and  credit  with  others, 
no  wonder  if  they  trust  it,  value  it,  and  think  it 
acceptable  to  God,  to  whose  perfections  they  are  as 
blind,  as  to  the  miseries  and  plagues  of  an  unsancti- 
fied  heart. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  113 


CHAPTER  V. 

Error  in  estimating  our  own  qualities  a  cause  of  our  misconceiving 
the  divine  perfections — Obstacles  to  correct  views  of  ourselves — 
Readiness  with  which  men  confess  the  evil  of  their  hearts — Pro- 
cess by  which  men  are  reconciled  to  evil  ways — Causes  which 
perpetuate  this  delusion — Their  unobserved  operation — Tendency 
of  worldly  companions  and  amusements  to  foster  infidelity — This 
danger  inferred  from  our  mental  constitution — Presumption  of 
those  who  disregard  it — Delicacy  of  religious  sentiment — Its  easy 
decay — Peril  of  virtue  and  faith  where  the  influence  of  religion 
is  discouraged — Great  changes  in  moral  character  occurring 
without  our  notice — Blindness  to  the  infidelity  consequent  upon 
them — Difficulty  of  breaking  from  worldly  society — Things  im- 
plied in  our  attachment  to  it — The  prospect  presented  to  the 
mind  —  Worldliness  —  Practical  atheism  —  Peculiar  dangers  of 
youth — Whether  religion  is  an  easy  practice — What  is  essential 
to  make  it  so — Its  nature — Its  requisitions  agreeable  to  the  truest 
philosophy. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  the  influence  of  the 
depravity  of  our  nature  on  our  judgment  and  prac- 
tice, with  reference  chiefly  to  the  duties  which  we  owe 
to  God.  This,  too*  is  the  principal  ohject  of  every 
part  of  the  present  discussion.  But  whatever  leads 
to  such  errors,  either  of  opinion  or  practice,  as  we 
have  contemplated,  must  evidently  be  the  cause  of 
great  errors  in  our  estimate  of  our  own  character. 
Indeed  errors  in  the  faith  and  practice  of  religion 
10* 


J  1  4  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

always  presuppose  errors  in  our  judgment  of  our- 
selves, if  they  do  not  proceed  from  them.  We  must 
rightly  understand  our  own  character,  or  we  never 
can  rightly  understand  the  character  of  God  and  the 
wisdom  and  fitness  of  his  proceedings  with  us. 
That,  which  is  most  apt  to  betray  us  into  self-delu- 
sion, will  be  a  chief  cause  of  error  in  the  concerns 
of  religion.  It  is  therefore  pertinent  to  our  object 
to  consider  the  influence  of  our  depravity  on  our 
views  of  ourselves.  The  mistakes  of  this  descrip- 
tion, which  we  may  be  able  to  detect,  will  assist  us 
to  determine  what  confidence  we  should  have  in  the 
purity  and  adequacy  of  our  conceptions  of  the  moral 
perfections  of  God.  The  question  for  our  decision 
will  be  whether,  if  erring  and  partial  in  our  views 
of  our  own  moral  qualities,  we  shall  be  likely  to  be 
correct  and  impartial  in  our  estimate  of  the  require- 
ments of  the  divine  law? 

A  general  obstacle  to  correct  views  of  ourselves, 
as  well  as  of  God,  is  our  self-ignorance;  and  this  is 
ignorance  which  we  are  naturally  too  indolent  to 
discover,  and  too  self-complacent  to  suspect,  before 
some  glaring  evidence  of  it  has  been  forced  upon  the 
mind.  Our  intimacy  with  the  subject  seems  to  us  to 
suppose  knowledge, — and  inquiry  and  solicitude  are 
therefore  not  entertained ;  and  what  is  most  easy  and 
necessary  to  be  learned  remains  unknown.     For  this 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  115 

reason,  our  knowledge  of  subjects  rarely  presented 
to  the  mind,  and  requiring  much  investigation  to  be 
understood,  is  often  more  perfect  than  our  know- 
ledge of  those  with  which  we  are  more  familiar, 
and  which  may  be  more  easily  investigated ;  and 
as  this  ignorance  is  shameless,  because  common, 
and  grateful,  because  it  keeps  us  in  favour  with  our- 
selves, it  is  no  wonder  if  we  assume  the  credit,  while 
we  are  destitute  of  the  life  and  proper  operation,  of 
knowledge.  He,  whose  religion  is  something  better 
than  profaneness,  will  not  find  it  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  he  is  both  good  and  knowing  indeed, 
if  they,  whose  hearts  and  heads  he  studies  in  the 
inferences  of  their  conduct,  can  have  countenance 
for  these  qualities ;  and  this  too,  when  they  show  in 
nothing  that  they  have  them  not  so  much  as  in  the 
extravagance  of  their  pretending  to  them — adding 
to  their  destitution  of  the  qualities  so  great  dulness 
in  the  perception  of  them,  that  they  need  but  to 
know  them  to  be  convinced  that  they  have  them 
not. 

There  is  one  thing  with  which  we  may  always  be 
familiar,  which  may  be  seen  in  every  individual 
about  us  as  in  a  glass,  which  shares  in  all  our  cares 
and  affections  and  runs  in  every  thing  we  do;  and, 
though  there  be  nothing  more  important  for  us  to 
know  well,  there  is  yet  nothing  of  which  we  gene- 


116  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

rally  know  so  little.  It  is  that  self,  busy  and  present 
in  every  thing,— that  strangely  anxious,  yet  more 
strangely  improvident  presence  which  works  such 
wonders  on  us,  and  such  suspicions  in  us,  which  in 
others  flatters  us  to  discern'  our  weakness,  and  in 
ourselves  flatters  us  to  conceal  it ;  in  them  praises 
us  barely  to  hide  the  envy  which  dreads  our  dis- 
covery, and  in  ourselves  detects  the  secret,  yet 
glories  in  the  praise;  in  them  makes  our  opinion 
the  test  of  what  is  fit  and  noble,  while  it  affects  to 
be  indifferent  to  all  opinions  but  its  own,  and  both 
in  them  and  us  smiling  at  the  parts  which  others  act, 
but  acting  the  same  with  scarcely  any  consciousness 
of  its  own  doings — itself  yet  the  most  engaged  and 
observing  of  creatures! 

Men,  whose  consciences  and  understandings  are 
not  wholly  perverted,  feel  and  will  confess  the  evil 
of  their  hearts  ;  but  charge  it  upon  them  as  it 
operated  in  a  particular  case,  and  they  will  show 
by  apologies  that  they  do  not  believe  it.  No 
one  is  disposed  to  withhold  the  confession  of  our 
general  depravity,  and  many  make  it  rather  with  an 
air  of  triumph  than  of  humiliation,  as  if  there  were 
magnanimity  in  it,  or  were  no  want  of  virtue  where 
there  is  no  unusual  absence  of  it;  but  attempt  to 
lift  the  veil  which  covers  their  corruptions,  and  they 
start  back  as  if  an  enemy  had  approached    them 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  117 

without  a  warning.  They  will  not  come  to  the 
investigation  ;  and  it  seems  fair  to  judge  that  they 
are  conscious  of  deeds  which  would  be  reproved. 
Their  conduct,  in  this  particular,  also  implies  a 
readiness  to  hide  themselves  from  their  own  view, 
and  a  capacity  tp  be  satisfied  with  iniquity  that  is 
concealed  from  the  view  of  others — a  state,  it  should 
be  noted,  totally  inconsistent  with  just  views  of  sin 
or  holiness.  They  do  not  fear  the  invisible  Searcher 
of  hearts,  and  the  confidence  of  their  associates  gives 
them  the  confidence  of  virtue.  They  walk  erect  in 
all  the  expressiveness  of  conscious  worth,  when,  if 
their  motives  and  acts  were  fully  known,  they  would 
fly  in  shame  from  the  presence  of  those  who  praise 
and  trust  them. 

The  process,  by  which  we  become  reconciled  to  evil 
ways,  is  gradual  and  often  imperceptible.  Actions 
that  are  merely  doubtful  as  to  their  morality,  first  gain 
approbation,  and  the  little  beginnings  of  vice  are  tole- 
rated without  alarm.  The  mind,  naturally  tender 
and  timorous,  is  not  easily  tempted  to  commit  acts  of 
distinguished  iniquity.  Its  moral  dread  of  vice  is 
not  overcome  by  such  bold  attacks;  but  it  is  done  by 
the  undermining  influence  of  humbler  departures 
from  virtue.  These  steal  their  way  into  our  very 
constitution  before  we  are  apprized  of  our  danger, 
and  without  a  rattle  to  remind  us  of  their  venomous 


118  POPULAR    INFIDELITY". 

nature.  They  are  the  young  vices  which  we  take 
to  our  bosoms;  the  enemy's  spies  which  we  enter- 
tain not  only  with  our  secrets,  but  with  our  best 
provisions;  *  the  foolish  virgins'  to  whom  we  are 
giving  the  l  oil  in  our  lamps,'  without  any  fear  that 
it  will  ever  fail  us.  We  think  we  have  light  enough 
and  to  spare.  Our  small  defects  are  hid  in  the  shade 
of  our  greater  virtues,  and  if  by  the  light  of  truth 
and  conscience  they  are  ever  made  to  appear,  like 
spots  upon  a  planet,  they  are  surrounded  with  splen- 
dour, and,  what  is  satisfactory,  are  not  visible  to 
mortal  eyes.  Thus,  through  the  deceitfulness  of 
sin,  we  are  first  drawn  into  its  power,  and  cheated 
into  the  belief  that  all  is  well  because  no  evils  are 
experienced,  we  become  confident  of  virtue  in  the 
loss  of  sensibility  to  guilt,  and  in  the  successes  of  un- 
discovered crime,  are  reconciled  to  ourselves  by  the 
continued  favour  and  countenance  of  the  good. 

But  the  process,  by  which  we  are  beguiled  from 
virtue,  and  deluded  into  a  sinful  complacency  with 
our  own  character,  is  not  more  subtle  or  unobserved 
than  the  operation  of  the  causes  which  tend  to  per- 
petuate the  delusion.  The  best  of  men  are  liable  to 
be  influenced  in  their  opinions  of  themselves  by  the 
depravity  of  the  heart.  Running  in  the  thoughts 
and  affecting  the  understanding  of  men,  it  causes  not 
only  many  individual  errors,  but  a  lax  and  danger- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  119 

ous  *  public  opinion/  which  is  apt  to  be  referred  to, 
as  authority  for  what  is  right  and  proper.  We  have 
stated,  and  it  may  be  repeated,  that  we  are  disposed 
to  think  little  of  imperfections  and  sins  which  are 
supposed  to  be  common  to  man;  and  it  is  not  less 
true  that  any  evil  practice,  which  public  opinion 
sanctions,  will  lose  the  appearance  of  evil  as  it 
respectably  prevails.  Who,  indeed,  is  likely  to 
feel  remorse  or  shame  for  what  the  world  approves? 
Guilt  finds  countenance  for  itself  in  guilt;  and  he 
that  lacks  beauty  or  virtue  will  not  wish  to  conceal 
himself  where  neither  is  esteemed.  In  this  practical 
reference  of  our  conduct  to  the  judgment  of  the 
world,  the  '  blind  lead  the  blind,'  and  sustain  each 
other  in  the  way  of  ruin.  Many  united  will  be 
confident  in  a  bad  cause,  which  no  one  alone  would 
have  courage  to  defend.  Each  one  finds  encourage- 
ment for  himself  in  the  example  of  others,  and  so 
each  is  supported,  and  in  his  turn  supports  another. 

Few  are  at  all  apprized  to  what  extent  their  opi- 
nions are  influenced  and  moulded  by  the  practice  of 
their  associates.  To  one  of  two  societies  we  must 
belong,  the  servants  of  God,  or  the  servants  of 
satan;  the  votaries  of  time,  or  the  votaries  of  eternity: 
they  are  each  of  them  striving  for  the  mastery,  and 
saying,  "  Come  with  us."  We  may  now  be  tender 
and  respectful  to  the  claims  of  religion,  but  we  have 


120  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

other  sentiments,  stronger  than  these,  to  which  we 
shall  be  tempted  to  yield,  if  we  enter  ourselves  with 
those  who  are  devoted  to  the  amusements  and  inte- 
rests of  time.  There  is  a  spice  of  atheism,  a  dash 
of  immodesty  towards  religion  in  all  they  do  and 
say,  which  is  the  more  dangerous,  because  it  is  so 
mild  and  diffused  a  thing  that  it  requires  more  than 
ordinary  watchfulness  to  detect  it,  and  more  than 
ordinary  courage  to  give  it  its  true  character.  With 
them  life  and  death,  hope  and  disappointment  are 
spoken  of  without  advertence  to  God,  and  with 
regard  only  to  physical  causes  and  effects.  The 
motives  and  the  works  of  piety  are  referred  to  prin- 
ciples of  selfishness  and  hopes  of  gain,  such  as  per- 
vade their  own  minds  in  the  business  of  the  world. 
If  we  hear  and  consider  with  attention,  we  shall 
find  the  sentiment  breaking  out  like  a  restrained  fire 
at  every  opening,  that  all  men  have  the  same  end, 
and  the  only  difference  is,  that  of  many  lawful  ways 
to  it,  some  take  one,  and  some,  another.  The  most 
serious  and  awful  scenes  of  human  existence  are 
commented  on  as  incidents  in  a  world  of  chance. 
The  sensibility  and  thoughtfulness,  which  they 
awaken  in  the  less  confirmed  of  their  number,  are 
contemplated,  and  perhaps  adverted  to,  as  symp- 
toms of  weakness  and  inexperience,  to  which  it  is 
their  felicity  to  be  superior.     Now,  let  it  be  con- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  121 

sidered  that  our  religious  sentiment  is  not  naturally 
our  strongest;  that,  like  other  delicacies  of  the  mind 
and  heart,  it  recoils  at  first,  and  then  loses  its  nature 
when  used  to  ungenial  associations,  and  becomes,  if 
not  the  conscious,  the  real  subject  of  an  impure  con- 
version; that  our  strongest  tendency  is  to  fix  our 
affections  on  the  world,  to  break  from  the  restraints 
of  eternity,  to  adjust  our  opinions  to  the  standard  of 
our  companions,  and  to  make  their  esteem  a  great  and 
leading  object  in  our  speeches,  smiles,  and  favours — 
and  can  it  be  doubted  that  here  is  an  active  and  power- 
ful cause  of  degeneracy  and  unbelief  ?  Can  we  doubt 
that  the  result  of  this  combination  will  be  to  create 
in  us  a  necessity  for  pleasures,  and  a  complacency  in 
pursuits  and  imaginations,  hostile  alike  to  religious 
consideration  and  to  correct  views  of  personal  cha- 
racter, and  certain  to  perpetuate  the  delusion,  if  not 
checked  by  the  intervention  of  crosses  and  calami- 
ties which  shall  bring  us  back  to  a  i  right  mind,' 
and  to  the  '  abundance  that  is  in  our  Father's  house  V 
We  remember  one  (who  seemed  to  run  well  in  reli- 
gion) who,  falling  among  the  enemies  of  his  Lord, 
denied  him  in  fear  of  their  displeasure — and  another, 
(who  heard  the  preacher  '  gladly,  and  did  many 
things,')  who  afterward,  (though  <  he  knew  him  to 
be  a  just  man,')  'for  his  oath's  sake,'  (made  in  a 
glee,)  and  i  for  their  sakes  who  sat  with  him,'  (for  he 
11 


122  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

desired  their  approbation,)  '  commanded  his  head 
to  be  brought  in  a  charger,  and  given  to  the  damsel/ 
who  had  demanded  it  as  the  price  of  the  amusement 
she  afforded  them.  There  are  slighter,  but  not  dis- 
similar, acts  of  denial  and  crime,  to  which  we  are 
perpetually  tempted  in  the  society  of  men  devoid  of 
religion.  Their  practice,  indeed,  is  but  a  denial  of 
its  claims,  but  a  blow  at  the  destruction  of  that  which 
they  profess  to  honour  as  '  just.J  We  place  our- 
selves where  all  is  against  Christianity,  and  nothing 
in  favour  and  honour  of  it;  where  the  irreligious 
tendencies  of  our  nature  are  drawn  out  and  applaud- 
ed; where  it  requires  more  than  ordinary  courage 
and  strength  to  preserve  or  even  express  any  con- 
cern for  the  interests  of  the  soul;  where  we  are 
strongly  tempted  to  be  silent  about  religion,  to  ac- 
quiesce in  its  banishment,  to  suppress  our  convic- 
tions, and  to  pass  on  to  a  guilty  and  cowardly  shame 
of  it,  when  in  the  chosen  presence  of  those,  who, 
maugre  their  friendship,  would  spoil  us  of  hope  and 
salvation,  and  think  they  done  us  no  disservice. 
Think  as  well  as  we  may  of  the  society  of  worldly 
minds,  it  gives  no  entertainment  to  religion,  and 
will  not  tolerate  the  serious  mention  of  it.  The 
life  and  gayety  which  prevail  there  would  fly  at  its 
approach,  like  birds  scattered  by  the  presence  of  Ihe 
fowler.     There  is,  if  not  an  instinct,  a  ready  appre- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  123 

hension,  a  guilty  shrinking  from  it,  which  as  well 
expresses  its  infrequency  as  its  unwelcomeness  there. 
If  we  suppose  that  we  can  covet  such  society,  and  suf- 
fer our  thoughts  to  follow  its  lead,  and  to  repose  in 
its  moods,  without  the  peril  of  our  virtue  and  of  our 
confidence  in  the  truths  of  religion,  we  are  unac- 
quainted with  our  nature  and  the  strength  of  our 
mind.  We  may  continue  in  it  and  be  conscious  of 
no  change  of  opinion,  relinquish  no  article  of  faith, 
and  incur  no  charge  of  singular  guilt  or  vainness  of 
purpose;  but  we  shall  fall  from  our  estate  in  a  more 
general  and  less  observable  way;  we  shall  lose  our 
susceptibility  to  spiritual  impressions;  indistinctness 
of  perception,  aversion  to  prayer,  and  deadness  to 
praise  will  come  on,  and  the  strength  of  the  hold 
which  religious  principle  has  upon  us  will  be  weak- 
ened at  every  point,  before  we  are  apprized  that  we 
have  ehanged  in  any.  The  cause  of  this  change, 
of  this  diffusion  of  infidelity  in  the  mind,  should  be 
borne  in  remembrance.  It  is  the  breaking  up  and 
merging  of  the  sinner's  convictions  of  the  nature  of 
sin,  and  of  the  degree  of  his  own  sinfulness,  which 
has  taken  place  as  the  direct  effect  of  habitual  con- 
verse with  that  society,  where  every  thing  is  plan- 
ned, spoken,  and  done  in  disunion  from  God;  where 
it  is  no  crime  to  exclude  religion  from  the  thoughts, 
and  where  selfishness,  pride,  and  all  the  spiritual 


124  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

forms  of  wickedness  are  treated  as  innocent,  and 
only  the  vices  and  crimes,  which  impair  confidence 
and  reputation,  and  put  in  jeopardy  <  their  own 
things,'  are  noted  and  condemned  as  sins. 

The  infidelity,  which  results  from  changed  views 
of  personal  guilt  and  danger,  (and  our  views  in  this 
respect  are  always  changing  for  the  worse  when  not 
improving,  and,  though  changing  by  insensible  de- 
grees perhaps,  yet  greatly  changing,)  is  seldom  per- 
ceived by  the  subject  of  it,  and  in  this  lies  its  dead- 
liest advantage.  It  is  '  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,' 
having  indeed  all  of  the  dulness,  with  none  of  the 
innocence  of  that  useful  animal.  It  is  a  virus  that 
has  been  infused  without  a  sting,  and  works  without 
pain,  consuming  the  health  and  obscuring  the  sight. 
Its  process  is  as  insensible  as  that  of  age,  disabling 
and  bringing  us  under  its  power.  No  speculative 
opinions  are  changed,  no  great  truth  is  formally  re- 
nounced; still  the  change  is  great;  it  is  diffused 
through  the  whole  man,  and  when  he  contemplates 
it,  it  awakens  no  alarm,  and  is  not  likely  to  be  seen 
either  in  its  cause  or  effect.  It  is  nature  upon  which 
only  the  changes  of  experience  and  age  have  passed, 
taking  something  from  its  susceptibility  and  power, 
but  nothing  from  its  goodness  and  faith.  Such  are 
the  views  which  men  have  of  the  grown  corruption 
of  the  heart,  when  it  assumes  only  an   even    and 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  125 

natural  shape;  and,  of  course,  the  infidelity  which 
they  involve  is  rarely  suspected.  They  must  be 
convinced  that  their  views  of  sin  have  been  modi- 
fied by  their  associations,  that  in  the  unmixed  world- 
liness  of  their  thoughts  and  affections  there  is  an 
element  of  darkness,  a  growth  of  death,  which  mars 
and  defiles  their  conceptions  of  truth,  before  they 
can  understand  their  true  condition  or  its  proper 
remedy.  This  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so  difficult  to 
persuade  them  of  their  infidelity,  and  why  the  truth, 
when  presented  to  their  mind,  has  so  little  effect. 
They  are  not  sensible  of  the  character  of  the  change 
that  has  been  wrought  in  their  estimation  of  sin  and 
holiness,  and  retaining  still  their  opinions,  something 
as  a  tree  retains  its  limbs  when  life  is  gone  from 
them,  they  esteem  themselves  as  good  believers  as 
tver. 

The  truth  affects  them  little,  because  they  do  not 
see  their  occasion  to  be  affected  by  it,  and,  observe, 
they  never  will  see  it,  while  they  continue  to  view 
their  character  as  reflected  from  the  conduct  of 
others  who  approve  of  them  as  they  are,  and  act  as 
they  do.  Such  example  has  the  effect  of  weakening 
their  convictions  of  sin,  of  impairing  their  fear  of 
God,  and  estranging  the  mind  from  the  evidences 
of  his  truth.  This  done,  they  are  left  exposed  to 
other  consequent  causes  of  unbelief:  they  have  esta- 
11* 


126  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

blished  their  worldly  associations  and   friendships, 
and  consistency  requires  that  they  should  continue 
in  them;  the  difficulty  of  a  return  to  religious  con- 
sideration is  thus  greatly  increased;  the  singularity 
of  such  a  course   and   the   reproachful  surprise  it 
might  awaken  are  more  strongly  apprehended,  and 
they  have  not  the  courage  to  do  the  duty  they  would. 
This  is  the  best  view  of  their  case;  and  it  may  be 
very  far  from  comprehending  the  whole  evil  and 
difficulty  of  it.    They  have  perhaps  drank  in  so  great 
a  measure  of  worldliness,  that  they  would  not  ex- 
change it  for  religion,  if  they  could,  would  not  break 
from  the  ranks  of  its  neglecters,  if  there  were  no 
obstacle  in  the  way,  no  sacrifice  of  esteem  and  no 
reproach  to  be  incurred  by  it.    Like  the  deranged,  or 
the  foolish  man,  they  may  be  struck  spell-bound,  with 
the  splendour  of  their  prison-walls,  and  obstinately 
refuse  to  come  out,  when  its  doors  are  opened  and 
liberty  proclaimed.      When   this   infatuation,    this 
pleasure  with  worldly  bonds,  is  added  to  the  en- 
hanced difficulties  and   sacrifices  which  they  must 
undergo  in  breaking  from  them,  reason  despairs  of 
their  recovery.     There  is,  indeed,  no  hope  of  it 
from   themselves.      Every    influence   is    operating, 
every  motive  is  drawing,  to  help  them  on  in  the 
discredit  of  religion,  and  to  give  them  repose  with- 
out it.     True^they  have  yet  some  distrust  of  their 


FOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  127 

safety,  but  they  see  nothing  singular  in  their  condi- 
tion, and,  as  the  numbers  who  rank  with  them  swell 
on  every  side,  with  hearts  light  and  countenances 
imaging  confidence  and  delight,  their  fears  are 
allayed.  They  take  courage  from  observing  the 
unconcern  of  others;  they  would  tremble  to  face  the 
danger  alone;  to  be  solitary  sinners  they  could  not 
endure;  to  see  all  their  companions  running  in  the 
ways  of  righteousness  would  cause  instant  dissatis- 
faction and  alarm;  to  be  marked  and  set  apart  in 
this  way,  this  would  make  them  hate  the  distinction 
which  now  they  so  much  covet,  bring  down  their 
high  looks,  imbitter  their  pleasures,  and  run  every 
thing,  save  religion,  to  dross  and  littleness.  But 
their  strength  stands  in  numbers,  (strange  that  they 
should  not  deem  it  a  strength  drawing  to  destruc- 
tion,) and  their  boldness  (cutting  the  air  in  the  rear 
of  powerful  leaders,  no  danger  near  or  looked  for) 
like  an  insect  circling  a  blaze,  repelled  by  the  heat, 
hut  inferring  no  danger  from  the  light,  is  daring 
because  not  seeing,  and  cheerful  because  not  con- 
sidering— both  illustrating  and  prompting  the  ex- 
clamation, 'if  the  light  that  is  in  us  be  darkness, 
how  great  is  that  darkness!'1 

Enough  has  been  said  to  evince  that  neither  the 
mind  nor  the  heart  can  be  clear  in  an  element  from 
>  Matt.  vi.  2,  3. 


128  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

which  religion  is  expelled.  Next  to  positive  im- 
piety and  sensuality,  the  greatest  obstacle  to  faith  is 
that  worldliness  which  is  acquired  in  the  chosen 
society  of  those  who  are  living  without  God.  It 
stupifies  the  conscience,  cools  the  affections,  breeds 
distaste  to  serious  reflection,  accustoms  the  mind  to 
the  absence  of  religion,  and  gives  scope  and  nourish- 
ment only  to  the  corrupt  tendencies  of  our  nature. 
It  is  a  ivorld,  in  which  God  is  practically  allowed  to 
have  no  part,  which  is  separated  from  eternity, 
where  all  trifles  have  a  dangerous  value,  and  every 
thing  is  permitted  to  drift  but  what  may  be  gathered 
up  and  turned  to  the  advantage  and  pleasure  of  a 
wasting  life.  And  when  it  is  considered  what  our 
nature  is,  what  our  proneness,  under  the  wisest  and 
best  restraints,  to  self-indulgence  and  the  neglect  of 
spiritual  concerns,  can  it  be  thought  safe  for  our 
virtue,  to  say  nothing  of  our  faith,  to  strike  for  plea- 
sure and  notoriety  in  such  an  element  of  atheism  as 
this  ?  to  inure  the  heart  to  a  fascination  that  steels 
it  to  the  impression  of  danger,  to  shut  God  out  of 
the  mind,  and  let  nature  run,  without  the  guidance 
of  his  grace, 

'  like  a  river  smooth 

Along  its  earthy  borders'?' 

If  we  can  do  this  safely,  we  may  blot  out  as  super- 
fluous half  of  the  precepts  and  cautions  of  the  word 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  129 

of  God;  our  nature  is  not  what  it  is  there  described 
to  be,  nor  what  we  have  seemed  to  find  it  in  expe- 
rience; we  have  been  deceived;  there  is  no  danger 
of  being  corrupted  by  '  evil  communications,'  no 
cross  in  religion,  no  self-denial,  no  crucifixion  of  the 
natural  man,  no  '  worldly  lusts'  to  be  slain,  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  consent  to  be  borne  to  heaven,  or 
rather,  to  let  our  nature  carry  us  there.  Alas,  that 
any  should  indulge  in  a  dream  like  this;  should 
think  themselves  proof  against  '  the  wear  and  tear' 
of  this  current;  or  should  esteem  religion  so  little 
as  to  enter  themselves  on  this  ground,  and  take  their 
chance  for  salvation  in  a  race  that  leads  directly 
from  it,  and  must  soon  leave  it  out  of  sight!  This 
is  to  turn  their  back  on  God,  to  stop  their  ears  to 
his  calls,  to  close  their  eyes  to  the  lights  he  has  set 
in  their  path,  and  all  in  an  easy  expectation  of  get- 
ting to  heaven  at  last.  That  any  will  do  this,  while 
they  have  a  speculative  belief  in  Christianity,  and 
no  settled  purpose  of  living  and  dying  without  an 
interest  in  it,  is  an  instance  of  wonderful  self-decep- 
tion, a  proof  that  the  plague  of  their  hearts  has  got 
a  deep  and  unsuspected  hold,  and  that  the  excel- 
lence, the  heart,  the  whole  of  Christianity  but  its 
outside  is  gone  from  their  creed,  and  gone,  too, 
through  the  advances  of  corrupt  nature,  and  leaving 
no  sense  of  vacancy  and  loss  behind.     We  cannot 


130  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

express  the  trouble  we  feel  in  viewing  the  prospect 
before  them.  Those  generous  and  noble  youth, 
whose  loveliest  distinction  is  their  sensibility  to  vir- 
tue, and  to  a  Saviour's  compassion;  who  engage  us 
so  by  their  confidence,  their  warm  and  unsettled 
affections,  their  inexperience  of  sorrow  and  the  dan- 
gers of  deception — all  beautiful  as  they  are — we  see 
them  giving  their  hearts  to  the  world — we  cry,  but 
cannot  make  them  hear — we  look  on,  and  see  them 
as  trees  already  in  c  yellow  leaf;'  the  angel  that  was 
in  them  has  disappeared,  gone  in  all  but  his  visage; 
a  blight  has  fallen  on  the  religious  delicacy  of  the 
mind,  and, 

"  Like  the  crush'd  flower,  no  time,  no  art, 
Can  make  it  bloom  again." 

We  see  them  yet:  their  hearts  beat  only  for  worldly 
pleasure  and  admiration;  none  of  their  associates 
feel  surprise  or  attempt  to  turn  them  to  better  things; 
their  simple  feelings  are  acquiring  the  vigour  and 
hardiness  of  a  worldly  maturity,  and  they  are  moving 
on — a  wonder  to  all  but  those  who  are  going  the 
same  way,  yet  no  wonder  to  themselves — numbers 
falling  into  the  grave,  numbers  wasting  with  disease, 
numbers  bowed  down  with  anguish  and  disappoint- 
ment, numbers  consuming  with  envy  and  pride, 
numbers  finding  pleasure  ceasing  to  please,  numbers 
acknowledging  that  'all  is  vanity,'  with  no  heart  to 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  131 

seek  for  substance,  and  numbers  looking  back  on 
a  life  gone  through,  and  a  world  tried  and  emptied, 
and  forward  to  an  eternity  just  at  hand,  yet  having 
no  heart,  no  resolution  to  prepare  for  it: — we  see 
them  no  more — but  the  world  is  going  on  as  before; 
their  places  are  filling  up,  and  ceasing  to  know  them, 
none  the  better  that  they  have  lived,  or  the  sadder 
that  they  are  gone.1 

It  is  difficult  to  account  for  the  inconsideration 
with  which  persons,  accustomed  to  be  wary  and 
thoughtful  on  other  subjects,  will  put  in  peril  their 
spiritual  interests,  without  supposing  a  greater  de- 
gree of  unbelief  in  their  mind  than  they  are  ready 
to  acknowledge.  To  say  the  least,  it  evinces 
a  degree  of  insensibility  to  the  claims  and  per- 
fections of  God,  a  disaffection  with  his  service,  a 

1  If  we  have  nothing  secure,  nothing  which  will  be  ours  to  enjoy 
forever,  'what  shadows  we  are,'  and  what  shadows  do  we  dote 
upon !  When  contemplating  this  truth,  that  was  a  natural  reflec- 
tion of  Mrs.  Cooper,  which  we  find  in  her  life  by  Adam  Clark. 
"  When  I  view  mankind,  their  disappointments,  miseries,  diseases, 
and  wretchedness,  and  see  that  each  individual  has  a  cup  of  sorrow 
to  drink;  I  feel  surprised  that  this  world  should  ever  be  alluring  to 
my  eyes ;  that  it  should  ever  lay  siege  to  my  heart  with  so  much 
success;  that  the  things  relative  to  another  world  should  be  so  dimly 
viewed,  so  lowly  prized.  Religion,  if  it  be  sincere,  must  be  the 
prevailing  disposition  of  the  mind ;  it  must  supersede  every  thing 
else ;  it  must  be  a  progressive  work,  and  the  soul  must  be  preparing 
for  a  state  of  perfect  holiness."  Can  this  be  done,  can  we  have  any 
religion  at  all,  in  a  society  where  all  concern  for  it  is  looked  out  of 
countenance,  and  only  worldliness  is  indulged  1 


132  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

decided  preference  of  the  world  to  him,  which  can- 
not be  continued  in,  without  the  most  fearful  hazard 
of  running  into  infidelity.  It  is  an  ordinary  con- 
comitant of  such  a  state  to  have  all  the  better  and 
earlier  convictions  of  the  mind  unsettled.  When  com- 
mon respect  and  tenderness  toward  religion  is  dissi- 
pated, truth,  once  received  and  felt,  will  come  under 
suspicion,  and  be  turned  off  as  uncertain.  The  great 
realities  of  a  future  life  will  hang  in  doubtfulness; 
we  shall  begin  to  suspect  our  need  of  faith  in  them, 
and  to  look  with  more  boldness  and  composure  to  the 
trial  of  them  without  the  preparation  which  the  gos- 
pel requires.  We  want  no  better  proof  of  this  than 
reflection  on  the  operation  of  our  own  mind  will  give 
us;  but,  if  we  should  not  so  readily  find  it  here,  we 
may  see  it  in  the  multitudes  who,  in  maturity  and  old 
age,  are  living  without  religion,  and  dying  without 
concern.  This  indifference  proceeds  from  a  gross 
perversion  of  the  intellectual  powers  in  reference  to 
spiritual  objects,  which  has  its  origin  in  the  quali- 
ties of  the  heart.  They  did  not  anticipate  this  result, 
— they  could  not  have  been  satisfied  with  any  rational 
prospect  of  it, — but  now,  that  they  are  the  subjects 
of  it,  they  see  nothing  strange  or  alarming  in  it. 

These  considerations  show  what  the  peculiar  dan- 
gers of  youth  are,  in  associations  which  withdraw 
their   attention  from    religion  and  put  them  upon 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  133 

satisfactions  foreign  to  it.  There  is  death  in  the 
enchantment  of  this  circle.  The  leaven  of  the 
Pharisees — formality  in  religion,  and  distaste  to 
spiritual  duties — will  spread  through  all  the  facul- 
ties of  their  soul,  not  leaving,  ultimately,  so  much 
as  a  lukewarmness  for  God. 

We  have  sometimes  thought  that  religion  is  not  a 
little  dishonoured,  and  they  not  a  little  deceived,  by 
well  meaning  representations  of  it  as  an  easy  prac- 
tice. Its  yoke  may  indeed  be  easy,  and  its  burden 
light,  but  it  is  only  love  to  Christ  and  deadness  to 
the  world  that  can  make  it  so.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  religious  practice  without  a  conflict  with 
ourselves, — a  sacrifice  of  our  devotion  to  the  amuse- 
ments and  pursuits  of  the  world ;  and,  if  this  be 
deemed  a  great  hardship,  it  proves  too  clearly  that 
the  heart  is  not  yet  broken  in  penitence,  nor  kindled 
into  reciprocal  flames  by  the  love  of  Christ.  It  is 
only  poising  between  the  world  and  God,  proposing 
conditions  to  him,  not  accepting  of  his,  and  indulging 
thoughts  as  little  worthy  of  the  excellency  of  his 
service,  as  of  the  greatness  of  the  hopes  that  are 
entertained  from  it.  To  set  out  in  religion  with 
this  mind  is  not  to  follow  Christ,  but  to  bargain 
with  him  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  world;  to  dictate 
on  what  terms  we  will  be  saved,  and  to  pledge  to 
ourselves  his  acquiescence  in  them  ;  to  presume  on 
12 


134  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

his  forbearance,  and  to  confide  in  his  mercy  and 
complacency  towards  us,  while  we  refuse  to  separate 
from  the  world  and  to  bear  his  cross.  It  is  a  species 
of  self-indulgence  that  will  serve  him  only  so  far  as 
he  will  let  us  do  it  in  our  own  way.  How  much 
religion  persons  of  this  humour  would  have,  or  how- 
much  practical  consideration  of  Christ's  benefits 
and  counsels  they  evince,  it  is  hard  to  say.  It  is 
wonderful  that  they  should  pretend  to  any;  and  in- 
deed they  pretend  to  so  little,  and  so  little  evince, 
that  one  is  in  doubt  whether  it  is  their  pleasure  to 
have  the  credit  of  any.  Religion,  were  it  as  accom- 
modating to  our  natural  desires  as  their  practice 
shows  it  to  be,  would  be  little  better,  as  a  restraint 
upon  the  corruption  of  our  nature,  than  a  warrant 
for  its  indulgence  in  all  the  ways  of  preferring  the 
creature  to  the  Creator.  Our  Saviour  did  not  mis- 
take the  truth  on  this  subject  when  he  told  'a  certain 
ruler,'  who  had  kept  so  many  of  his  commandments, 
that  he  lacked  one  thing,  (a  lack,  let  it  be  observed, 
which  was  necessary  to  render  any  part  of  his  ser- 
vice acceptable,)  must  sell  all  that  he  had,  and  give 
to  the  poor,  and  so  come  and  follow  him.  This 
is  a  reasonable  demand,  not  only  that  his  service  is 
more  advantageous  and  honourable  to  us  than  any 
thing  else,  that  he  has  a  right  to  require  of  us  what 
he  will,  that  he  requires  an  easy  service  compared 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  135 

with  what  he  has  done  for  us,  but  also  that  it  is 
necessary  to  any  real  transformation  of  our  nature 
that  we  have  a  universal  preference  of  spiritual  to 
temporal  things, — a  readiness  to  give  up  all  for 
Christ.  Nothing  short  of  this  can  be  a  proof  of 
supreme  love  to  him;  and  to  barter  with  him,  for 
a  less  measure  of  regard  than  this,  is  to  rank  him, 
in  desirableness  as  well  as  loveliness,  below  his 
creatures,  and  to  turn  him  off  with  the  name  of  our 
devotion,  while  we  give  its  heart  and  joy  to  the 
world.  Such  a  habitude  of  mind  precludes  all  ad- 
vancement in  holiness,  and  favours  only  the  growth 
of  the  natural  and  unsanctified  man.  The  supposi- 
tion, that  we  can  advance  in  love  to  God  and  retain 
at  the  same  time  '  all  our  creature  fondnesses/  is 
opposed  to  all  the  laws  of  our  moral  nature,  and 
would,  moreover,  place  religion  out  of  the  sphere 
of  all  analogy.  "  All  things  strive  to  ascend,  and 
ascend  in  their  striving.  And  shall  man  alone 
stoop?  Shall  his  pursuits  and  desires,  the  reflections 
of  his  inward  life,  be  like  the  reflected  image  of  a 
tree  on  the  edge  of  a  pool,  that  grows  downward, 
and  seeks  a  mock  heaven  in  the  unstable  element 
beneath  it?"1  Strange  that  any  should  think  to 
retain,  with  a  religious  practice,  that  '  friendship' 
(not  to  say  devotion)  'of  the  world,'  which  is  styled 
1  Aids  to  Reflection,  p.  105.   2d  English  edition. 


136  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

< enmity  with  God!'  Stranger  still  that  they  should 
do  this,  after  the  formality  of  a  religious  profession 
which  turns  all  eyes  to  them  as  '  lights  in  the 
world,'1  and  which,  if  it  avail  any  thing  for  good 
in  their  experience,  does  justify  those  remarkable 
words,  '  ye  were  sometimes  darkness,  but  now  are 
ye  light  in  the  Lord,'2  and  that  most  reasonable 
deduction, — therefore  'walk  as  children  of  light, 
and  have  no  fellowship  with  the  unfruitful  works 
of  darkness!'3  This  subject  is  so  clear  in  itself, 
and  evidence  so  glaring  bursts  upon  it  from  every 
page  of  inspiration  and  every  day  of  human  ex- 
perience, that  we  have  no  fear  of  intimating  that 
all  must  be  of  the  same  mind  upon  it,  except  those 
who  are  so  little  convinced  of  the  deep  repugnance 
of  their  nature  to  spiritual  things,  so  worldly  secure, 
and  so  strongly  bent  on  gratifications  foreign  to  re- 
ligion, that  they  neither  know  its  difficulties  or  its 
comforts,  have  no  experience  of  those  "cheering, 
warming  beams"  that  light  off  the  divine  counte- 
nance, and  are  thinking  to  keep  God  satisfied  with  a 
little  devotion  now,  and  to  give  him  a  full  measure 
when  age  or  exhaustion  shall  incapacitate  them  for 

"Phil.  ii.  15.  2Eph.  v.  8— 11. 

3  If  a  man  is  not  rising  upward  to  be  an  angel,  depend  upon  it, 
he  is  sinking  downward  to  be  a  devil.  He  cannot  stop  at  the  beast. 
The  most  savage  of  men  are  not  beasts ;  they  are  worse,  a  great  deal 
worse.— Coleridge's  Table  Talk,  vol.  ii.  p.  132. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  137 

pleasure  in  other  things.  There  is  no  religion  in  all 
this — clearly  none.  It  is  worse  than  indifference  to 
it — a  deliberate  postponement  of  its  claims — -a  dis- 
crediting of  it,  whether  intentionally  or  no,  and  that, 
in  the  house  of  friends.     This  is  no  exaggeration  ; 

1  There's  nothing  left  to  fancy's  guess, 
You  see  that  all  is  barrenness.' 

Not  a  vestige  of  faith  appears  in  a  mind  that  is 
desolate  and  impatient  without  gratifications  which 
indispose  it  to  devotion.  He  pays  but  a  sorry  com- 
pliment to  religion,  who  would  obtain  it  at  so  cheap 
a  rate — at  no  sacrifice  of  worldly  vanities  and  hopes. 
The  heart,  that  strongly  desires,  or  can  easily  per- 
suade itself  to  take,  the  liberty  of  this  indulgence, 
cannot  stand  the  test  of  truth.  It  is  already 
estranged  from  the  life  of  God;  it  finds  no  access 
to  him  in  prayer ;  its  enjoyment  is  not  in  him,  and 
the  course  it  craves  leads  from  him.  Where  our 
treasure  is,  there  our  heart  will  be  also;  and  where 
the  heart  is,  there  also  will  be  our  delight.  If  it  be 
imagined  that  we  can  be  preparing  for  heaven,  while 
obeying  our  natural  fondness  for  things  here,  turning 
our  thoughts  and  affections  in  another  direction, 
drifting  by  the  force  of  cherished  habit  from  God, 
and  only  looking  back  to  him  in  duty  when  under 
the  lashes  of  guilt,  it  is  the  grossest  self-deception. 
We  are  going  from  the  object,  and  it  is  vain  to 
12* 


138  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

expect  that  it  will  overtake  us.  Religion  is  a  '  fel- 
lowship with  the  Father,  and  with  his  Son  Jesus 
Christ/1  a  <  walking  in  the  comfort  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;'2  and  how  are  these  to  he  maintained  without 
a  congenial,  habitual  thoughtfulness,  without  denying 
ourselves,  and  resisting  'the  course  of  this  world?'3 
If  we  will  decline  a  practice  so  reasonable,  as  well 
as  scriptural,  we  must  indeed  have  small  thoughts 
of  the  objects  to  be  gained  by  it;  if  we  would  carry 
with  us  into  this  fellowship  the  dead  weights  of  the 
world,  we  may  be  sure  that  we  are  dallying  and 
counselling  with  i  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief.'  And  its 
power  to  deceive,  and  draw  us  to  destruction,  will 
increase  with  every  victory  it  gains  over  us.  We 
may  not  trust  it;  its  venom,  its  art,  invokes  a  strong 
resistance. 

"  The  serpent  of  the  field,  by  art 

And  spells,  is  won  from  harming ; 

But  that  which  coils  around  the  heart, 

O  who  hath  power  of  charming  1" 

Our  hearts  are  not  like  the  hearts  of  others,  nor  is 
religion  the  great  thing  the  Bible  makes  it,  if  we 
can  safely  presume  to  face  the  <  appearance  of  evil/ 
and  leave  our  interest  in  it  unguarded. 

i  John  i.  3.  2  Acts  ix.  31.  3  Eph.  ii.  2. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  \  39 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Want  of  self-knowledge  a  cause  of  error  in  religion — Self-love — 
Examples  of  its  deceptive  operation — Its  opposition  to  correct 
views  of  truth — Perils  of  the  state  to  which  it  carries  the  mind — 
Difficulty  of  understanding  this  state,  and  of  escaping  from  it — 
Errors  that  grow  out  of  it — Its  incompatibility  with  moral  improve- 
ment— Two  weighty  inferences — Sense  of  guilt  always  slight  in 
habitual  sins — Great  sins  rendered  sinless  in  our  eyes  by  a  con- 
tinuance in  them — Secret  sins — The  peculiar  danger  of  them — 
Their  effect  on  the  moral  perceptions — The  false  security  and 
infidelity  which  insensibly  spring  from  them — The  folly  of  de- 
ciding on  our  character  from  the  opinion  of  others — Deceptive 
appearances — Prayer  of  a  Roman  worshipper — Great  inconsist- 
encies in  practice — Instruction  drawn  from  the  conduct  of  the 
thief  and  the  robber — The  moral  decency  of  their  example  com- 
pared with  that  of  others — Effect  of  sinning  on  the  judgment — 
Errors  in  one  respect  leading  to  error  in  all  others — Reflections. 

Having  considered  the  proneness  of  men  to 
determine  the  good  or  evil  of  their  actions  by  refer- 
ence to  the  conduct  of  others,  and  the  dangerous 
results  which  follow  from  it,  we  see,  more  and  more, 
the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  and  the  great  im- 
portance of  knowing  ourselves,  if  we  would  know 
the  causes  of  our  unbelief  and  error  in  regard  to 
divine  truth.  The  progress  of  infidelity  in  every 
mind  keeps  pace  with  the  increase  of  distaste  to  spi- 
ritual things.  When  we  lose  our  delight  in  an  ob- 
ject of  faith,  it  is  gone  from  us,  and  we  see  no  more 


140  POPULAR    INFIDELIT3T. 

its  beauties — like  as  an  object  of  vision  is  gone  with 
all  its  colours,  when  we  see  it  no  longer.  This  is 
especially  likely  to  be  the  result,  when  the  truths  to 
be  credited  are  not  only  distasteful,  but  require  the 
renunciation  of  objects  and  pursuits  to  which  the 
heart  has  become  strongly  wedded.  It  is  not  to  be 
expected  that  in  this  condition  we  shall  see  things 
as  they  are,  if  indeed  we  credit  their  existence; 
and,  not  seeing  them  as  they  are,  it  is  impossible 
that  our  faith  in  them,  be  it  more  or  less,  should  be 
according  to  truth,  or  have  any  suitable  influence. 

We  are  all  liable  to  have  our  judgment  swayed  by 
interest,  prejudice,  or  passion;  but  it  is  very  difficult 
to  make  any  one  see  this  in  his  own  case.  This  truth 
however  is  universally  acknowledged;  and  this, 
taken  in  connexion  with  the  difficulty  of  seeing  it  in 
our  own  practice,  shows,  clearly,  not  that  we  are  ex- 
ceptions to  the  rule, — that  none  will  allow  but  our- 
selves— but  that  the  powers  of  the  intellect — the 
reason,  the  understanding — are  susceptible  of  the 
greatest  influence,  and  the  grossest  perversion  from 
the  qualities  of  the  heart. 

Self-love,  in  some  of  the  forms  of  its  manifesta- 
tion, sways  every  man's  opinions  and  actions,  to  a 
degree  which  he  can  scarcely  credit.  There  are 
eminent  instances  of  this  which  glare  in  every 
body's  eyes;  but  it  is  not  so  important  to  contem- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  141 

plate  these,  as  the  more  general  and  less  observable 
processes  of  it  which  may  be  seen  in  all.  We  do  not 
here  speak  of  men,  who  are  unusually  depraved,  but 
of  those  simply,  who  lay  many  restraints  on  their 
evil  propensities,  and  are  in  high  esteem  for  general 
probity.  And  how  various  and  blinding  are  the 
operations  of  this  principle  in  them !  He,  who  is, 
perhaps,  never  censured  for  any  delinquency,  guided 
by  its  specious  influence,  looks  upon  others  to  find 
his  advantage  over  them.  He  compares  himself 
with  the  worst,  and  loses  sight  of  his  own  defects  in 
the  greatness  of  theirs,  as  a  lesser  light  seems  put  out 
by  a  greater.  Another  lives  on  the  applause  and  cor- 
diality of  his  neighbours,  finding  in  their  friendship 
the  evidence  of  virtues  which  he  does  not  possess. 
He  hears  their  testimony  to  the  graces  of  his  amia- 
ble, upright,  and  honourable  character,  and  it  falls 
like  the  music  of  paradise  upon  his  ear,  charming 
him  into  delusion,  and  into  favour  with  faults  which 
he  had  before  condemned.  Another  is  extolled  for  a 
deed  of  folly  or  wickedness,  by  the  unreflecting  mul- 
titude, from  whom  he  derives  his  importance,  and 
for  this  reason  alone,  he  boasts  of  it  as  his  deed,  and 
thinks  it  a  great  virtue.  Another,  when  he  is  convict- 
ed of  injustice  or  vice,  invents  palliations,  complains 
of  persecution,  and  is  readily  persuaded,  by  the  sym- 
pathy and  forbearance  of  the  credulous  and  the  kind, 


142  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

that  his  defences  are  reasonable.  Another,  when  he 
has  offended  you,  may  confess  his  fault,  and  if  you  are 
ready  to  forgive  and  approve,  he  may  be  so  well 
pleased  with  the  virtue  of  his  confession  that  he  will 
think  better  of  himself  than  he  did  before  he  had 
offended,  and  this,  when,  if  he  had  not  feared  the 
loss  of  your  favour,  he  would  not  have  confessed  or 
felt  any  sorrow  for  his  offence.  Whether  the  object  be 
himself,  or  one  affecting  himself,  no  man  under  the 
reigning  influence  of  this  principle  sees  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth;  he  has  not  light  enough  for  that. 
He  sees  things  to  a  great  extent  as  he  wishes  to  see 
them;  and  he  never  wishes  to  see  them  as  crossing 
and  opposing  himself.  We  need  not  say  what 
havoc,  what  base  transformations  and  images  of  the 
truth  self-love  will  be  likely  to  cause,  when  we 
come  to  estimate  the  claims  of  Christianity,  which 
proposes,  as  a  chief  thing,  to  undo  the  nature,  to  take 
down  the  pride  and  sufficiency  of  man. 

The  influence  of  an  inordinate  self-love,  in  recon- 
ciling us  to  our  own  evil  ways,  may  be  variously 
illustrated.  That  there  is  much  dishonesty  even 
among  men  who  are  accounted  respectable,  and  that 
there  is  ground  in  our  nature  for  apprehending  it, 
is  evident  from  the  laws  and  guards  that  are  raised 
against  it:  indeed  this  truth  is  admitted  by  all.  It  is 
also   admitted   that   much    dishonesty  is   practised 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  143 

which  is  never  exposed,  and  cannot  be  made  the  sub- 
ject of  legal  investigation;  but  look  for  the  authors 
of  it,  and  you  will  not  find  a  man  of  this  class  who 
thinks  himself  practically  dishonest,  or  believes  a 
report  which  declares  him  to  be  unworthy  of  confi- 
dence. Their  cherished  impression  is  that  they  are 
not  justly  liable  to  this  charge,  whereas,  if  another  had 
acted  precisely  as  they  have  done,  they  could  have 
no  trust  in  his  principles.  Tell  a  man  of  the  oppor- 
tunities of  doing  good  which  he  has  neglected,  and 
if  he  has  ever  felt  an  emotion  of  kindness,  or  de- 
signed a  virtuous  action,  he  will  refer  to  these  for 
consolation,  and  perhaps  view  himself  not  the  less 
virtuous  for  not  having  done  what  he  has  delayed 
only  that  he  might  do  it  more  seasonably;  and  who- 
ever has  done  more,  if  more  fortunate,  has  not,  he 
fancies,  designed  more  or  wished  better.1  He,  who 
is  criminally  selfish  in  all  his  ways,  often  says  much 
of  the  selfishness  of  the  human  heart,  sees  not  in 
himself  what  he  complains  of  in  others,  reasons  plau- 
sibly on  the  arts  employed  by  many  (himself  em- 
ploying the  same)  to  appear  benevolent  and  secure 
esteem,  and  concludes,  if  the  methods  of  promoting 
our  interests  are  diverse,  our  motives  in  all  are  sin- 
gle, and  thus  imperceptibly  finds  himself  to  be  good 

1  So  true  is  it,  as  Shakspeare  says,  that  "  our  crimes  would  de- 
spair if  they  were  not  cherished  by  our  virtues." 


144  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

in  finding  that  others  are  bad.  The  avaricious  man, 
whose  storehouses  are  full,  can  hardly  believe  it  his 
duty  to  give  to  the  poor:  he  has  acquired  his  wealth 
by  industry  and  economy,  (virtues  these!)  and  can 
therefore  see  no  reason  why  he  should  bestow  it 
upon  those  who,  by  the  neglect  of  the  same  means, 
have  become  poor.  He  considers  that  every  man 
who  lives  in  indolence,  does  it  with  the  prospect  of 
poverty  before  his  eyes,  and  must  therefore  have 
preferred  the  inconveniences  of  want  to  the  pains 
of  industry;  and  if  he  has  learned  too  late  the  folly 
of  his  choice,  let  him  remember  that,  as  a  recom- 
pense for  the  evils  of  his  present  state,  he  has  al- 
ready had  a  season  of  ease  and  pleasure.  He  thus 
ascribes  all  his  success  to  himself,  (no  divine  favour 
in  it  all,)  leaves  the  unavoidable  losses  which  some- 
times reduce  men  to  want  wholly  out  of  the  account, 
and  takes  only  that  view  which  is  adapted  to  quiet 
the  apprehensions  and  secure  the  possessions  of  ava- 
rice. He,  who  in  the  heat  of  passion  has  done  you 
an  injury,  may  be  disposed,  after  reflection,  to  make 
you  satisfaction;  but  should  he  now  be  told  that  you 
merited  the  treatment  you  received,  and  ought  to 
atone  for  your  own  offences,  he  will  change  his 
mind,  and  settle  into  a  soothing  quietude,  consider- 
ing his  remorse  both  as  the  result  of  weakness  and 
as  evidence  of  his  disposition  to  do  right.     Alexan- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  145 

der,  when  he  had  in  a  fit  of  rage  slain  one  of  his 
most  approved  friends  and  captains,  sunk  into  deep 
remorse,  and  became  inconsolable  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  horrid  deed;  but,  when  a  philosopher 
appeared  in  his  presence  to  console  him,  and  told 
him  he  was  made  to  rule,  and  was  not  accountable 
for  his  actions,  his  grief  was  alleviated,  and  he 
became  more  haughty  and  unjust.1  He  was  re- 
lieved by  the  authority  of  philosophy  appealing 
to  his  vanity.  Thousands,  too,  relieve  themselves 
from  remorse  by  referring  their  sins  to  the  pro- 
pensities and  infirmities  of  nature.  Hence  they 
have  an  apology  for  the  worst  vices  and  crimes* 
Their  greatest  offences  are  regarded  either  as  mis- 
fortunes or  weaknesses — as  misfortunes,  when  they 
are  made  to  suffer  for  them — as  weaknesses,  when 
they  find  them  wasteful  and  unsatisfying.  Whether 
it  be  satiety  and  disgust,  or  reproach  and  suffering, 
which  they  experience,  it  is  not  the  pollution  or 
guilt  of  sin  which  fix^s  the  attention:  no;  they 
are  not  humbled; — they  think  themselves  neglected^ 
wronged,  oppressed,  and  are  perhaps  ready  to  com- 
plain of  God  as  unequal  in  his  ways  towards  them. 
Examples  of  the  operation  of  this  principle  in  per- 
verting the  judgment  might  easily  be  multiplied; 
but  in  those  now  presented,  it  may  be  clearly  seen 

>  Plutarch's  Life  of  Alexander 
13 


146  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

with  what  false,  yet  plausible  arguments  men  jus- 
tify in  themselves  what  they  condemn  in  others,  and 
with  what  avidity  they  listen  to-  any  thing  that  lulls 
their  remorse,  or  flatters  their  vanity. 

A  mere  continuance  in  this  state  is  enough  to  con- 
firm and  increase  all  its  evils.     The  habit  of  view- 
ing things  through  this  medium,  and  of  measuring 
them  by  ourselves,  is  greatly  to  be  dreaded.     It  is 
not  likely  to  alarm,  but  works  swiftly  and  silently r 
like  a  disease  that  is  unknown,  yet  fatally  pervading 
every  part  of  the  system.     It  eats  away  all  the  bet- 
ter sentiments  of  the  heart,  and  sullies  all  the  per- 
fections of  mind.     We  may  not  be  aware  of  this, 
but  the    danger    is    not    less,    but   greater,   that   it 
will  master  us.    We  see,  especially  in  the  unobserv- 
able  processes  of  our  depravity,  (unobservable,  not 
by  others,  but  by  ourselves,  because  it  has  insensibly 
taken  from  us  the  power  of  discriminating  them,) 
our  necessity  for  a  light  superior  to  nature,  which 
shall  overcome  and  extinguish  our  deceitful  glimmer- 
ings—just that,  indeed,  which  the  Bible  proposes,  as 
that  is  just  what  all  accurate  inspection  of  our  na- 
ture shows  it  to  be,  not  an  arbitrary  appointment, 
but  a  provision  replete  with  the  clearest  understand- 
ing of  our  frame,  and  the   clearest  foresight  of  its 
fitness  to  the  ends  it  was  designed  to  secure.     No- 
thins  can  be  more  irrational  than  to  trust  the  natural 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  147 

goodness  of  our  hearts,  and,  if  we  would  but  judge 
ourselves  as  we  judge  others,  we  should  be  wary  of 
this  danger:  the  fact  that  we  are  not  generally  so, 
only  makes  the  danger  greater,  and  proves  that  we 
are  victims  to  self-delusion,  not  that  our  hearts  are 
better.  It  shows  that,  how  drossy  soever  our  na- 
tures are  growing,  we  see  not  6  how  the  most  fine 
gold  has  become  changed.'  The  process  is  diffusive 
and  easy,  running  through  all  the  faculties  and  pow- 
ers of  the  moral  man, — blinding  those  it  does  not 
kill.  To  love  ourselves,  to  seek  only  'our  own 
things/  is  to  obey  nature,  and  nature  in  her  lowest 
ends.  But  it  is  a  practice  so  common,  so  agreeable, 
that  we  question  if  the  morality  of  it  is  often  doubted. 
It  will  however  awaken  the  deepest  solicitude  in  a 
considerate  mind  to  know  that  it  precludes  all  moral 
improvement,  and  bears  the  soul  downward,  gently 
perhaps,  yet  with  the  weight  of  a  mountain,  as 
ascertained  when  the  heart  makes  a  due  resistance. 
It  is  a  setting  up  of  ourselves  in  the  place  of  God; 
not  an  attaining  to  ourselves,  but  a  falling  below  this 
measure,  and  finding  our  level,  like  water  in  a  storm, 
in  the  lowest  places  of  the  earth.  It  nurtures  and 
matures  in  us  that  iron  selfishness,  which  is  the  com- 
mon  blind   and    distinction  of  manhood   and   age.1 

1  If  our  nature  be  duly  considered  in  this  light,  it  will  be  clear,  that. 
it  must  depreciate  with  age,  unless  that  tendency  be  counteracted  by 


148  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

Persons,  who  have  gone  this  length,  never  think  that 
any  (  strange  thing'  has  happened  to  them,  and  in- 
deed the  thing  is  not  so  strange,  as  great:  it  is  a  natural 
growth  of  the  heart,  and  has  so  completely  rooted 
out  all  other  qualities,  and  wrought  so  great  a  dis- 
relish for  them,  that  it  is  rather  the  heart  itself  than 
a  quality  of  it;  and  no  wonder  it  should  awaken  no 
surprise  or  apprehension.  The  creature,  that  is  all 
tiger,  never  fears  that  dread  totality  when  seen  only 
in  himself.  The  tempers  and  designs,  which  such 
men  guard  against  in  others,  in  themselves  appear 
harmless  as  the  breathings  of  life  within  them. 
Their  life  is  bound  up  in  the  world,  their  heart  con- 
tempered  and  concorporate  with  sensible  things,  and 
all  their  pretences  of  respect  to  the  unseen  realities 
of  eternity  are  but  as  the  unreal  images  that  gather 
in  the  view  of  a  disordered  eye,  the  faintest  notions 
of  what  they  neither  heartily  believe  nor  desire. 
If  with  the  pretence  of  public  spirit,  they  overstep 
the  usual  bounds  of  self-interest,  it  is  to  catch  an 
opportunity  of  serving  themselves  on  a  larger  scale — 
munificent  of  beams  which  draw  all  eyes  to  them. 

the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  feature  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  that,  without  which  no  renovation  of  the  heart  can  be  con- 
ceived as  possible.  Without  divine  illumination  man  can  neither 
know  nor  improve  himself;  and,  disregarding  this  truth,  his  course, 
as  shown  above,  will  be  downward,  though  his  progress  may  not  be 
perceived  by  himself. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  149 

They  stand  at  a  perpetual  gaze,  joying  or  hoping  to 
see  some  favourable  turn  in  their  affairs,  and  ready 
to  grasp  at  the  sum  of  earthly  good,  not  from  any 
sense  of  duty  to  God  or  man,  but  as  if  struck  with  a 
desire  to  lose  themselves  in  their  own  abundance. 
Every  fresh  success  puts  new  life  and  soul  into 
them;  but  reduce  them  to  despair  of  worldly  emolu- 
ment, and  the  most  inviting  and  charming  descrip- 
tions of  heavenly  rest  have  no  reviving  power;  their 
hearts  languish  and  die,  as  if  the  principle  of  life  had 
already  gone  from  them. 

It  is,  therefore,  impossible  that  any  one  in  this 
state  should  have  correct  views  of  himself,  or  be 
able  to  see  the  beauty  and  excellence  of  divine 
things.  But  it  should  be  remembered,  that  it  is  a 
state  to  which  our  nature  is  fast  carrying  us,  which 
is  itself  little  other  than  the  growth  of  nature,  and 
which  nothing  can  hinder  us  from  entering,  tending 
to  it  as  we  do,  but  the  counteraction  of  love  to  God. 
Without  this  the  heart  will  inevitably  fasten  on 
lower  objects,  and  have  a  selfish  growth.  It  will 
have  a  devotion,  if  not  to  God,  to  itself,  through  the 
love  of  the  wrorld.  This  tendency  alone  is  sufficient 
ground  for  distrusting  the  justness  of  our  conceptions 
of  moral  qualities  whether  in  ourselves  or  others. 

It  shows  also  that  great  danger  to  integrity  of  mind 
must  arise  from  the  indulgence  of  an  undue  self-esti- 
13* 


150  POPULAR    INFIJDELiTr. 

mation.  No  one  has  any  remorse  for  this,  nor  do  we 
expect  to  make  any  proper  impression  of  its  eviL 
When  we  speak  of  undue  self-estimation  we  mean,  not 
those  gross  exhibitions  of  it,  which  make  it  the  singu* 
larity  of  an  individual,  but  any  degree  of  it,  which 
affects  the  judgment.  In  this  degree  it  is  perhaps 
universal;  and  it  will,  if  not  steadily  resisted,  gain 
complete  ascendency.  Where  there  is  much  self* 
control  and  strength  of  mind,  there  may  be  no 
offensive  disclosures  of  it,  nothing  amounting  to 
weakness;  but  its  operation,  though  stern  and  manly, 
may  not  be  less  vital  or  less  influential.  The  pre* 
valence  of  this  vice  (if  vice  that  may  be  called 
which  is  not  so  esteemed)  is  greater  than  some  sup- 
pose— so  various  are  the  modes  of  its  manifestation, 
and  so  opposite  the  ways  in  which  it  accomplishes  its 
end.1     We  may  not  be  aware  of  any  danger  from  it 

1  It  may  be  thought  that  knowledge  on  this  subject  can  only  breed 
distrust ;  but  not  so — that  is  but  an  abuse  of  it.  We  cannot  shut 
our  eyes  to  the  truth,  if  we  would, — and  should  not,  if  we  could. 
Ignorance  one  of  another  is  more  likely  to  aWaken  suspicion,  and  to 
chill  the  affections  through  fear  of  injustice  and  hypocrisy  in  others. 
No  trust,  no  affection,  that  is  not  based  upon  a  due  appreciation  of 
our  nature, — is  suitable  to  us  as  rational  creatures*  It  has  been  well 
said,  "  Unless  the  companions  of  our  lives  are  absolutely  unworthy  of 
our  love,  or  ourselves  are  incapable  of  pure  and  generous  emotions, 
we  shall  love  them  with  more  vivacity,  and  with  more  steadiness, 
when  the  depth  of  their  faults  has  been  sounded,  than  we  could 
while  ignorance  (mother  of  jealousy  and  fear)  stood  in  the  way 
between  heart  and  heart.'** 

*  Saturday  Evening,  p.  213. 


POPtfLAft   INFIDELITY.  151 

to  ourselves — >we  may  think  we  are  superior  to  it — « 
but  we  must  believe  others  are  under  its  power,  and 
shall  not  be  able  to  persuade  them  that  we  are  not. 
The  evil  is  thus,  by  its  own  action,  concealed  from 
us;  but,  like  the  poison  that  lies  dormant  in  the 
system,  it  is  not  dead— it  will  do  its  work  if  not 
counteracted.  The  marble  feels  not  the  operation 
of  the  chisel,  though  it  yields  to  it;  and  the  secular 
man  feels  not  the  workings  of  his  depravity,  though 
he  yields  to  them, — -and  yielding  he  is  often  when 
he  least  knows  it.  The  heart  cannot  be  Well  known 
without  habitual  attention  to  its  secret  and  changing 
motions,  nor  then,  without  the  aid  of  light  from 
above.  It  is  a  ' mystery  of  iniquity,'  and  the 
startling  truth  is,  that  the  more  complacency  we 
indulge  with  regard  to  it,  the  more  secure  we  fee\f 
and  the  deeper  become  its  deceptions.  The  longer 
We  seek  for  reasons  to  justify  ourselves  in  doubtful 
practice,  (practice  that  but  harms  us  in  way  of 
self-indulgence,)  the  more  easily  will  they  be 
formed,  and  the  less  evidence  shall  we  require  to 
prove  us  safe  and  right.  Borne  on  by  the  down- 
ward tendencies  of  nature,  and  diverted  from  the 
consideration  of  our  duty  and  destiny,  by  the  glare 
of  objects  that  forever  assail  the  senses  and  occupy 
the  affections,  we  easily  and  remorselessly  settle  into 
Ignorance  of  our  hearts,  and  into  the  practice  of 


152  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

immoralities  which  an  overgrown  estimation  of  our- 
selves will  not  permit  us  to  fear  or  condemn. 

Man  is  always  growing  morally  better  or  worse, 
and  worse  he  is  surely  growing,  without  much  care 
and  study  to  become  better;  and  if  it  be  a  care  and 
study  not  heeding  the  counsel,  nor  depending  on  the 
grace  of  God,  little  will  be  done.  The  extremes, 
the  temporal  hazards,  of  iniquity,  may  be  shunned; 
the  corruption  of  nature  may  run  in  the  forms  of 
a  severe  morality,  but  in  the  end  nothing  will  be 
found  at  the  bottom  but  self-importance;  it  will  be 
seen  that  he  has  only  f  brought  forth  fruit  unto  him- 
self ;' 1  and  the  very  shunning  of  vices  and  the  prac- 
tice of  unusual  virtues,  so  called,  may  have  contributed 
to  this  his  natural  growth.  What  then,  without  the 
most  industrious  care,  must  be  his  progress?  The 
influence  of  his  selfish  passions  increases  with  his 
wants,  and  sensibility  cools  with  the  advance  of  age. 
Conscience,  once  tender  and  quick  to  do  her  office, 
becomes  dilatory.  The  indulgence  of  evil  desires, 
once  attended  with  remorse,  is  now  attended  with 
pleasure.  Duties,  once  considered  duties  and  never 
neglected  without  pain,  now  seem  hardly  to  be 
duties,  and  are  omitted  without  any  compunction  or 
care  that  they  are  so.  Acts  of  overreaching  injus- 
tice, or  of  withholding  avarice,  have  been  repeated 

1  Hos.  x.  1. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  153 

till  they  appear  to  be  right.  Such  is  the  process  of 
time  and  habit  in  undoing  our  natural  goodness,  or 
rather  that  which  we  fancy  so,  but  which  is  so,  only 
as  bespeaking  our  high  descent,  as  reaching  after 
perfection,  and  helping  us  to  attain  thereto,  when  not 
obstructed  by  adverse  desires  and  pursuits.1 

If  the  tendencies  and  deceptions  of  self-love 
are  such  as  we  have  disclosed, — if,  as  observation 

1  We  do  not  mean  here  simply  what  Coleridge  somewhere,  we 
think  in  his  Friend,  expresses,  though  that  may  hint  its  action.  We 
pretend  not  to  quote  his  exact  words — '  Conscience,  as  it  is,  is  like  the 
moon  to  us,  which,  with  all  its  massy  shadows  and  deceptive  gleams, 
still  lights  us  on  our  way,  poor  travellers  as  we  are.  With  all  its 
spots  and  changes  and  eclipses,  with  all  its  vain  halos  and  bedimming 
•vapours,  it  still  reflects  the  light  that  is  to  rise  on  us  in  eternity, 
and  which  even  now  is  rising,'  We  mean  more  a  natural  seeking 
after  an  undefined  but  suitable  good,  which  is  thus  graphically  de- 
scribed : — "  For  man  doth  not  rest  satisfied  either  with  fruition  of  that 
wherewith  his  life  is  preserved,  or  with  performance  of  such  actions 
as  advance  him  most  deservedly  in  estimation ;  but  doth  further  covet, 
yea,  oftentimes  manifestly  pursue,  with  great  earnestness,  that  which 
cannot  stand  him  in  any  stead  for  vital  use ;  that  which  exceedeth 
the  reach  of  sense,  somewhat  divine  and  heavenly,  which,  with  hid- 
den  exultation,  he  rather  surmiseth  than  conceiveth ;  somewhat  he 
seeketh,  and  what  that  is  directly  he  knoweth  not,  yet  very  inten- 
tive  desire  thereof  doth  so  incite  him  that  all  other  known  desires 
and  delights  give  place  to  this  but  only  suspected  desire."*  Some- 
thing of  a  presentiment  like  this,  in  different  degrees  of  strength, 
has  distinguished  man  in  every  age  of  the  world.  It  is  nature  (ill 
working  at  best)  giving  signs  of  her  loss,  and  of  her  necessity  for 
light  and  strength  from  above.  When  full  light  comes  in,  and  the 
way  to  the  object  is  made  clear,  strange  that  interest  in  it  should  often. 

flag! 

*  Hooker's  Church  Polity,  Book  I. 


154  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

teaches,  the  sense  of  guilt  is  abated  by  the  frequent 
repetition  of  sinful  actions, — two  most  weighty  and 
alarming  conclusions  follow,  namely,  that  in  our 
habitual  sins  the  sense  of  guilt  will  always  be  weak, 
and  often  entirely  lost,  and  also,  that  our  sins  may 
possess  much  enormity,  and  the  sense  of  guilt  be 
slight,  and  our  ways  be  truly  evil,  and  yet  be  render- 
ed clean  in  our  own  eyes  by  a  continuance  in  them: 
thus  confirming  the  inspired  aphorism,  'All  the 
ways  of  a  man  are  clean  in  his  own  eyes.'1  Things, 
once  clearly  wrong  and  strongly  disapproved,  change 
in  his  mould,  and  become 

'  Like  things  enskyed  and  sainted.' 

As  any  one  of  the  passions  may  possess  its  object 
with  beauty  and  virtue,  or  with  loathsomeness  and 
deformity,  according  as  the  nature  of  the  passion 
may  be,  and  these  qualities  have  all  the  influence 
of  realities  with  us,  though  none  of  them  properly 
belong  to  the  object;  so  our  self-admiration  makes  us 
see  unreal  virtues,  and  blinds  us  to  real  vices,  in 
ourselves.  Through  the  whole  range  of  practice  it 
runs  with 

"  Power  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion 
And  give  it  false  presentments." 

It  conceals  from  us  the  harm  and  guilt  of  sins  to 
which  we  are  attached,  and  which  a  loving  practice 

1  Prov.  xvi.  2. 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  155 

would  have  us  (as  innocents)  retain.  Thus  by  sin- 
ning much,  or  by  sinning  habitually,  we  come,  some- 
times, to  think  ourselves  hardly  to  be  sinners.  How 
should  these  inferences  startle  the  confidence  we 
have  had  in  our  own  goodness,  drive  us  to  close  and 
unremitted  self-examination,  and  awaken  in  us  the 
fearful  and  imploring  cry,  'Who  can  tell  how  oft  he 
offendeth  ?  0,  cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  faults, 
and  keep  back  thy  servant  from  presumptuous  sins!' 
It  is  truly  a  weighty  thing  to  live  in  our  nature,  with 
a  responsible  mind.  Cast  upon  an  ocean,  on  which 
no  man  ever  walked  safely  except  by  faith,  we  disre- 
gard all  experience,  and  attempt  to  walk  in  the  sight 
of  our  own  eyes.  While  we  are  in  ease  and  uncon- 
cern, the  delusion  that  blinds  us,  the  weights  that 
sink  us,  and  the  reckoning  that  awaits  us,  are  accumu- 
lating. Our  movement,  though  unheeded,  is  sure  and 
uninterrupted  to  the  bar  of  God,  and  the  account,  to 
be  settled  there  by  most  of  us,  will  be  composed  of 
habitual  sins, — sins,  possibly,  which  had  not  depre- 
ciated us  in  the  estimation  of  men, — sins,  wonderfully, 
and,  alas!  which  we  had  accounted  sinles3,  and  for 
which,  therefore,  we  did  not  expect  to  answer.  0! 
there  is  something  fearful  in  living  with  a  slight 
and  inefficient  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin, — something 
deadly  in  the  quiet  which  it  brings!  They  are  small 
sins — sins  that  are  without  reproach — which  chiefly 


156  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

work  the  ruin  of  the  soul;  and  yet,  that  ruin  how 
great,  and  how  strangely  small,  in  our  account,  the 
evil  that  can  affect  it!  Here  lies  our  danger:  in  a  state 
'of  ill  knowledge  and  self-conceit,'  the  chances  are, 
that  we  shall  cherish  many  sins  as  harmless, — that  if 
we  have  not  come  to  this  pass  now,  our  practice  will 
soon  carry  us  there.  That  felicitation  of  ours  on 
our  freedom  from  vices  may  show,  not  that  we  are 
better  than  others,  but  that  where  our  6  mortal  frailty'' 
has  come  out  in  them,  in  us  it  is  smothered,  not  ex- 
tinct. The  little  sins  in  us,  (little,  because  we  think 
them  so,)  in  consequence  of  the  advantages  of  our 
condition,  may  be  more  criminal  and  hardy  than  the 
vices  which  we  so  shudder  at  in  others.  Be  this  so 
or  not,  their  drift  toward  destruction  is  more  dan- 
gerous than  that  of  greater  crimes,  because  we  are  apt 
to  feel  more  secure  with  them.  Great  iniquities  are 
not  easily  forgotten,  and  are  therefore  more  likely  tc 
be  repented  of;  but  habitual  sins,  those  unoffending, 
those  dormant  reptiles,  that  we  cherish  in  our  bosoms, 
conceal  their  malignity,  while  they  retain  their 
venom.  Resting  quietly  with  them,  and  taking  no 
thought  of  what  passes  within  us,  we  are  like  him 
who  inclines  to  sleep  while  the  work  of  death  is 
going  on, — like  him  who  is  fortified  by  a  charm  in 
the  moment  of  ruin.  Pleased  with  these  soft  and 
silken  cords,  we  perceive  not  that  our  onward  motion 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  157 

draws  them  closer,  and,  while  the  length,  we  may  be 
permitted  to  go  with  them,  is  uncertain,  heed  not  the 
ever  revolving  wheel  which  winds  them  up.  Such  is 
the  false  security,  which  the  practice  of  sinning  breeds 
in  the  heart.  The  warnings  of  God's  word  and  of 
his  providence  annoy  possibly,  but  alarm  us  not.  In 
the  bosom  of  fostering  mercy — in  the  folds  of  divine 
compassion — we  have  grown  cold,  by  a  process 
deemed  innocent,  and,  when  any  event  or  flash  of 
judgment  to  come  puts  the  question,  what  is  the 
prospect?  promising,  responds  our  infatuated  nature. 
This  is  truly  a  human  conclusion,  drawn  from 
facts  humanly  perceived;  and  if  nature  be  stronger 
than  grace,  she  will  continue  to  have  the  best  of  the 
argument  to  the  end. 

Believing  what  is  believed  not,  perceiving  what 
is  perceived  not,  man  may  be  largely  knowing, 
according  to  his  conceptions,  though  knowing 
little,  according  to  truth.  Sin  and  the  love  of  it 
have  benumbed  and  stupified  his  faculties,  and  it  is 
only  in  his  own  eyes,  'which  see  not/  (though  see- 
ing,) that  his  ways  appear  clean.  Self-examination 
and  self-distrust,  duties  of  self-preservation,  are  sel- 
dom entertained.  They  are  often  omitted,  while 
there  is  the  greatest  composure  and  study  in  plan- 
ning and  executing  deceptions  on  others,  the  success 
of  which  has  the  effect  of  a  deception  on  our- 
14 


158  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

selves  by  blinding  us  to  our  design  and  guilt. 
Think  of  the  infatuation  of  him,  who,  in  concealing 
his  true  character  from  others,  has  concealed  it  from 
himself,  having  discernment  enough  to  conclude  he 
is  good  because  not  known  to  be  bad  by  those  whom 
he  has  deluded.  Think  of  the  complacency  of  him 
who  takes  satisfaction  in  a  reputation  which  he  knows 
to  be  undeserved,  and  seeks  credit  in  reproaching 
vices  which  he  shuns  not,  in  praising  virtues  which  he 
wishes  not  to  possess.  He  is  no  stranger — we  need  not 
question  whether  we  know  him.  Think,  too,  of  the 
connexion  between  the  respectability  of  vice  and  its 
prevalence,  of  the  solemn  air  of  him,  who  is  ponder- 
ing upon  his  ways,  in  contrast  with  the  high  looks 
of  him,  who  is  computing  the  avails  of  success  in  his 
secret  and  sinful  designs;  of  a  'world,  lying,'  not 
more  'in  iniquity,'  than  in  wait  to  accomplish  selfish 
ends,  plotting  in  light,  and  sallying  forth  in  dark- 
ness— and  deny,  if  we  will,  that,  in  surprising  others, 
we  have  not  found  ourselves  on  some  of  these  con- 
cealed posts. 

We  may  think  our  condition  fair,  with  all  the 
evidence  there  is  against  it,  or  we  may  know  it  to 
be  ill,  without  concern,  but  either  is  the  strongest 
proof,  we  can  give,  of  self-ignorance  and  unbelief. 
What  we  appear  to  ourselves  or  others  is  no  certain 
index  of  what  we  are,  for  though  a  corrupt  tree  will 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  159 

not  bear  good  fruit,  yet  it  may  bear  fruit  wbich  we 
will  take  for  good.  The  face  of  the  earth  presents 
no  indications  of  the  crystal  spring,  or  of  the  golden 
mine,  which  lies  deep  beneath  the  surface;  we  may 
have  conjectures  about  them,  but  to  have  knowledge, 
we  must  dig  or  bore  until  we  find  them.  So,  also, 
we  may  have  depths  of  corruption,  spirits  in  us — 
which  none,  not  even  ourselves,  have  suspected,  and 
of  which  it  may  be  said,  i  This  kind  can  come  forth 
by  nothing,  but  by  prayer  and  fasting.'1  The  lake, 
whose  surface  is  smooth  and  clear,  may  have  a  tur- 
bid fountain.  The  tree,  that  blooms  and  towers, 
may  have  a  rottenness  within.  The  object,  which 
at  a  distance  sparkles  with  beauty,  when  approached, 
often  presents  deformity. 

There  is  a  remarkable  illustration  on  this  subject 
in  one  of  the  epistles  of  Horace.2 

Vir  bonus,  omne  forum  quern  spectat  et  omne  tribunal, 
Quandocunque  deos  vel  porco  vet  bove  placat, 
"Jane  pater"  clare,  clare  quum  dixit  "Apollo;" 
Labra  movet,  metuens  audiri :  "  Pulcra  Laverna," 
Da  mihi  fallere,  da  justum  sanctumque  videri 
Noctem  peccatis  et  frondibus  objice  nubem. 

"The  good  man,  who  is  honoured  in  courts  of  justice 
and  in  all  the  assemblies  of  the  great,  whenever  he 
would  please  the  gods  with  a  sacrifice,  cries  aloud 
and  repeatedly,  0  father  Janus,  0  Apollo!  and  at 

1  Mark  ix.  20.  2  Epistola  xvi.  ad  Quinctium. 


160  POFULAR    INFIDELITY. 

the  same  time  moves  his  lips,  fearing  to  be  heard," 
(that  is,  prays  with  the  strong  whispers  of  the 
heart,)  '  0  beautiful  Laverna,'  (a  goddess  deemed 
the  protectress  of  thieves  and  impostors,)  '  grant 
me  success  in  deceiving,  grant  that  I  may  appear 
just  and  holy,  and  cover  my  faults  with  a  cloud,  and 
my  frauds  with  darkness.'  This  prayer  is  not  more 
remarkable  than  instructive,  as  illustrating  the  nature 
of  man.  It  is  only  nature  overheard  in  whispering 
the  secrets  of  its  devotion.  It  is  no  very  strange  oc- 
currence, and  all  that  makes  it  striking  is  that  it  is 
brought  so  fully  out  in  words.  The  worship  of  the 
Roman  goddess  has  ceased,  but  the  Roman  heart  is 
the  heart  within  us,  and  the  spirit  of  this  petition, 
believe  it,  if  not  uttered  in  words,  is  often  put  forth 
most  importunately  in  action  and  desire.  This  was 
the  prayer  of  our  first  parents,  when  they  hid  in  the 
garden.  It  was  the  prayer  of  Cain,  when  he  said, 
<  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?'  though  guilty  of  a 
crime  so  foul  that  it  '  smelt  to  heaven.'  It  was  the 
prayer  of  Peter,  when  he  said,  *  I  know  not  the  man.' 
It  is  the  common  prayer  of  sinners;  the  swift  peti- 
tion of  all  who  nightly  run  to  mischief.  No  man 
was  ever  guilty  of  a  deceit  or  crime,  which  he  did 
not  desire  to  conceal,  and  with  hope  of  concealment, 
who  has  not  done  that,  which  he  did  not  dare  to  do 
without  it?     Words  are  but  the  mere  reports  to  us 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  161 

of  desire  in  prayer,  and  sooner  than  they  die  on  our 
ear,  yea,  sooner  than  uttered,  the  desire  itself  is  gone 
to  heaven;  for  '  the  very  thoughts  of  our  hearts  are 
known  afar  off/  Wicked  designs  and  aspirations  are 
not  often  viewed  in  this  character,  but  if  we  knew 
of  one  who  could  give  us  impunity,  they  would  all 
run  in  the  forms  of  petition.  Imagine  men  now 
believing  in  a  being,  who  could  prosper  and  protect 
them  in  injustice  and  crimes,  and  where  should  we 
go  to  escape  his  worshippers?  The  suggestion  is 
sufficient  to  show  that  we  could  not  live  in  such  a 
world.  Earnest  prayer  would  not  then  be  the  rare 
practice  it  now  is,  and  if  fully  answered,  property, 
reputation,  life,  nothing  would  be  safe. 

How  humiliating  is  this  survey  of  human  nature; 
and  how  should  it  startle  the  sinner  to  think  of  the 
desires  that  ascend  from  his  heart  daily,  and  will, 
till  in  consternation  and  despair  he  calls  upon  the 
mountains  to  fall  upon  him,  and  hide  him  from  the 
coming  retribution,  or  till,  in  another  spirit,  not  that 
of  nature,  he  cries,  '  Search  me,  0  God,  and  know 
my  heart;  try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts,  and  see 
if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in 
the  way  everlasting!'  Who  that  has  lived  long,  and 
endeavoured  with  solicitude  to  live  uprightly,  has 
not  in  memory  some  concealed  iniquities  over  which 
he  wishes  to  weep,  before  that  day  '  when  God  will 
14* 


162  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

make  manifest  the  hidden  counsels  of  the  heart, 
when  that  which  hath  been  spoken  in  darkness  shall 
be  heard  in  light,  and  that  which  hath  been  spoken 
in  the  ear  in  closets  shall  be  proclaimed  upon  the 
housetops?'  0,  the  insolence  and  presumption  of  a 
being  who  cowers  beneath  the  gaze  of  human  vision, 
but  trembles  not  at  the  sight  of  Him  whose  eyes  are 
ten  thousand  times  brighter  than  the  sun, — who  so 
much  respects  his  fellow-man,  that  he  wishes  to  de- 
ceive him  with  an  appearance  of  excellence  which 
he  does  not  possess,  but  respects  so  little  the  Being 
who  breathed  him  into  life,  that  he  is  not  concerned 
to  conceal  his  iniquities  from  him,  and  neglects  even 
the  civility  of  thanking  him  for  his  gifts,  a  civility 
which  he  is  scrupulous  to  pay  to  the  most  worthless 
of  his  creatures!  Even  the  thief,  as  he  lays  his 
hand  upon  your  property,  has  care  that  you  see  him 
not.  The  robber  goes  forth  in  the  night;  he  accosts 
the  stranger,  and  will  have  no  witness  by;  but  who, 
in  the  moment  of  guilt,  stops  to  determine  if  God  be 
the  witness  of  his  doings  ?  Wonder  not  at  the  pre- 
sumption of  the  thief,  who  steals  knowing  all  eyes 
to  be  upon  him,  or  of  the  robber,  who  commences  his 
work  in  the  presence  of  thousands:  theirs  is  prudence, 
compared  with  the  presumption  of  him,  who,  profess- 
ing to  believe  that  all  his  feelings  and  actions  are 
known  to  God,  still  acts  and  feels  as  though  he  be- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  163 

lieved  it  not.  This  is  impudence  with  a  vengeance, 
and  it  has  become  so  common,  that  nobody  wonders 
at  it.  What  a  reflection  is  it  upon  our  nature,  if  amid 
all  our  labours  and  sacrifices  to  acquire  the  esteem  of 
mortals,  we  do  not  so  much  as  think  of  the  esteem 
of  Him  in  whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being,  and  who,  forgotten  by  us  in  health  and  plenty, 
hears  our  cry  in  sickness  and  want!  What  indig- 
nity does  he  offer  to  his  Maker,  who,  in  love  with 
mortal  praise,  pines  away  under  mortal  censure, 
who  grieves  for  his  earthly  losses,  and  rejoices  in 
prosperity  and  in  the  consolation  and  kindness 
of  earthly  friends, — but  never  sorrows  for  his  sins, 
never  rejoices  in  heavenly  favour,  never  glows  with 
love  to  Him  who  gave  him  his  friends,  his  privi- 
leges, and  all  things  here!  What  a  display  of  divine 
forbearance  is  it,  that  we  have  this  moment  to  re- 
member our  ingratitude,  and  to  what  a  pass  of  de- 
generacy and  insusceptibility  has  he  come  who  (not 
like  the  plant  bending  all  its  leaves  and  branches  to- 
ward the  sun  and  putting  forth  flowers  as  in  honour 
of  its  genial  glare,  but  like  one  dropping  all  the 
growth  of  life  toward  the  earth  as  with  intent  to  grow 
to  it)  does  not  begin  to  admire  and  love,  as  he  looks 
up  the  path  of  his  existence,  and  sees  the  stream 
of  mercy  which  has  ever  flowed  along  by  its  side, 
and  which  proceeded  from  the  great  and  beneficent 


164  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

source  whence  he  started,  and  from  which  he  has 
delighted  to  wander! 

Reflections  of  this  kind  are  natural  and  important, 
but  we  would  not  have  them  carry  the  mind  of  the 
reader  from  the  immediate  object  of  investigation, 
namely,  the  tendency  of  our  depravity,  in  one  way 
and  another,  to  obscure  the  mind,  and  disqualify  it 
for  perceiving  the  true  character  of  our  own  exer- 
cises and  qualities.  So  great  is  this  tendency,  that 
the  practice  of  sinning  is  found  generally  to  dimi- 
nish our  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  and  cause  us  to 
approve  of  acts  which  once  appeared  to  be  exceed- 
ingly sinful.  On  this  principle  it  is  that  we  account 
for  the  well  known  fact  that  truths,  which  are  most 
influential  in  youth,  generally  lose  much  of  their  power 
in  riper  years;  so  much  so,  that  we  have  the  result  of 
a  mind,  when  it  has  become  enlarged  with  know- 
ledge, and  capable  (intellectually)  of  a  fuller  compre- 
hension of  the  truth,  and  of  all  the  lights  that  shine 
on  it,  and  all  the  miseries  and  dangers  of  neglecting 
it,  losing  its  capacity  of  being  impressed  by  it,  and 
contemplating  it  with  an  indifference  hardly  due  to 
errors  that  have  been  long  since  detected  and  laid 
aside.  But  no  error  in  this  case  has  been  discovered, 
none  is  acknowledged:  still  there  is  a  change  in  the 
man;  sin  is  not  so  sinful  as  it  was;  truth  has  lost  its 
majesty;  other  objects  have  increased  in  importance 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  165 

and  the  accustomed  amount  of  conviction  is  gone. 
His  sense  of  his  own  danger  has  diminished  as  he 
has  become  familiar  with  it,  and  his  fear  of  God  seems 
to  have  been  expelled  by  the  experience  of  success 
without  his  favour.  He  sleeps  now;  and  all  his 
thoughts  about  divine  things  are  little  better  than 
dreams.  He  takes  no  alarm,  and,  whatever  else  he 
believes,  he  does  not,  he  knows  he  does  not,  believe 
that  sin  is  so  terrible  a  thing  as  God  or  an  awakened 
conscience  represents  it.  And  unbelief  in  this  par- 
ticular puts  a  thick  veil  upon  the  whole  system  of 
divine  truth.  If  the  eye  be  evil  here,  the  whole 
body  is  full  of  darkness.1  Take  away  this  truth,  or 
obscure  its  evidence  in  the  mind,  and  the  whole  is 
tarnished;  no  other  truth  will  be  left  entire;  nothing 
will  be  perceived  aright.  Every  deliberate  sin  is 
preceded  by  a  process  of  unbelief  in  the  mind  with 
regard  to  some  revealed  truth;  and  hence  the  fruit  of 
sinning  is  greater  confidence  in  sinning,  and  a  dimi- 
nished consciousness  of  guilt  and  pollution.  With  all 
the  defilements  which  attach  even  to  the  best  of  us, 
we  should  therefore  have  done  with  our  confidence  in 
the  justness  and  accuracy  of  our  conceptions  of  any 
truth,  except  as  we  are  '  taught  of  God.'  Only  as  he 
shines  into  our  hearts  do  we  see  light  and  get  under- 
standing. The  infatuation  of  sin  is  not  more  clearly 
'  Luke  xi.  34. 


166  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

seen  in  any  thing,  than  in  its  power  to  charm  away 
the  sense  of  guilt  and  danger.  This,  let  alone  all  its 
other  effects,  is  sufficient  to  show  that  we  are  always 
in  greater  peril  than  we  imagine.  Men,  who  have 
lost  their  reputation,  their  all,  by  their  iniquities, 
were  once  confident  in  their  capacity  and  willing- 
ness to  resist  temptation,  but  depended  not  upon 
Him  who  alone  is  able  to  subdue  the  heat  of  the 
furnace,  and  to  stop  the  lion's  mouth.1  The  danger 
is  not  small,  that  even  the  Christian,  if  he  permits 
the  watches  which  he  sets  over  his  ways  to  slumber, 
will  seek  in  concealment  a  protection  for  crime, 
or  a  covering  for  sin.  Alas!  what  does  observation, 
and  what,  we  add,  does  experience  teach  us  on  this 
point?  Man,  who  is  not  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts 
and  purposes  of  the  heart,  sees  but  little  of  what 
composes  our  essential  character;  and  well  it  is,  if 
in  what  he  sees  not,  we  do  not  oftenest  fail,  and  fail 
with  the  least  concern.  We  may  too  as  clearly  de- 
ceive ourselves  as  others.  The  heart  is  ever  in  the 
mazes  of  sin,  the  varnished  motives  and  idle  conceits 

»  No  system  of  religion  that  does  not  furnish  supernatural  aid 
can  meet  the  necessities  of  man.  This  feature  of  Christianity  en- 
titles it  to  the  homage  of  our  purest  reason.  Our  complete  depend- 
ence on  Divine  aid,  rightly  considered,  is  our  strongest  ground  of 
hope  and  encouragement.  We  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves ;  and 
when  we  learn  to  attempt  nothing  alone,  we  are  coming  to  a  right 
mind ;  we  shall  put  forth  Divine  strength  in  arms  of  flesh,  and  so, 
shall  be  able  to  <  do  all  things.' 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  167 

of  self-love.  Pride,  the  faithful  guardian  of  the  evil 
arcana  of  the  soul,  extinguishes  the  lights  of  truth, 
making  those  apartments  of  the  mind,  that  were 
darksome  before,  totally  dark.  When  this  princi- 
ple takes  the  lead,  nothing  works  well.  We  see 
ourselves  in  our  own  light,  which  is  only  glorious, 
as  our  own.1  We  are  thus  deceived;  we  see  nothing 
clearly  and  impartially;  and,  as  we  are  apt  to  feel 
too  secure  to  search  after  danger  or  to  deal  plainly 
with  ourselves,  no  one  can  tell  what  the  end  will  be. 
It  is  to  be  considered  also  that  imperfections  and 
sins,  once  concealed  in  this  way,  are  more  ensnaring 
and  dangerous  to  the  soul  than  any  other.  Repent- 
ance for  such  sins,  if  ever  it  comes,  generally  comes 
late.  The  smiles  of  an  approving  world  are  sooth- 
ing monitors  of  guilt  concealed.     He  too,  who,  in 

1  Pride  and  vanity  are  a  prolific  source  of  error  in  our  opinions 
of  ourselves.  Self-knowledge  is  the  best  corrective  of  them,  but 
the  difficulty  is,  that  they  arrogate  this  attainment,  and  thereby  ex- 
clude it  from  the  mind. 

The  man  whose  eye 

Is  ever  on  himself,  doth  Look  on  one, 
The  least  of  Nature's  works,  one  who  might  move 
The  wise  man  to  that  scorn  which  wisdom  holds 
Unlawful  ever.     O  be  wiser,  thou  ! 

Instruct  that  true  knowledge  leads  to  love ; 
True  dignity  abides  with  him  alone 
Who,  in  the  silent  hour  of  inward  thought, 
Can  still  suspect ;  and  still  revere  himself 
In  lowliness  of  heart. — Wordsworth. 


168  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

the  hope  of  concealment,  can  deliberately  commit 
sin,  is  of  all  men  least  likely  to  reform  while  con- 
cealment lasts.  Success  in  his  efforts  to  hide  his 
guilt  generally  imboldens  the  transgressor,  and  one 
instance  of  success  after  another  is  generally  fol- 
lowed by  an  increasing  frequency  of  crime.  So  it 
is  with  every  kind  of  iniquity  and  fraud  which  hu- 
man laws  cannot  reach  and  punish.  These  gain- 
prevalence  by  slow  degrees,  and  become  viler  as 
they  prevail,  till  civil  laws  are  violated ;  and  still 
the  sinner,  trusted,  and  reckless,  may  seem  to  him- 
self as  harmless  as  when  he  began  to  sin.  It  is  at 
the  point  of  detection  or  exposure  that  repentance 
and  reformation  usually  begin;  and  it  is  well,  if  the 
tears  of  such  an  hour  are  not  selfish  drops,  drops 
that  lull  the  conscience,  without  improving  the 
heart.  There  is  much  of  this  kind  of  repentance. 
Men  behold  themselves  detected  in  their  iniquities; 
the  pleasure  of  them  is  then  gone,  and  can  be  remem- 
bered only  as  vapid  and  unsatisfying;  they  blame 
themselves  for  such  follies  past;  they  have  some- 
thing very  like  repentance,  but  it  is  merely  rest- 
iveness  under  present  difficulties;  the  love  of  self 
taking  a  new,  a  more  profitable  direction.1  But  the 
thing  to   be   considered   most  is,   that  the   change, 

1  "  Thou  niay'st  of  double  ignorance  boast, 

Who  know'st  not  that  thou  nothing  know'bt." 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  169 

whatever  it  be,  and  by  whatsoever  motives  effected, 
is  likely  to  be  esteemed  a  virtue,  and  converted  to 
an  occasion  of  self-gratulation.  Every  view,  there- 
fore, which  we  can  take  of  ourselves,  warns  us  of 
the  infatuating  influence  and  fearful  evil  of  sin,  and 
teaches  us,  if  we  would  live  uprightly,  to  live  hum- 
bly, and  to  have  our  trust  in  heavenly  aid — not  at 
all  in  ourselves. 


15 


170  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Influence  of  character  on  belief— Direct  application  of  the  reasoning 
in  the  preceding  chapter — Analogies  between  what  men  think  of 
themselves  and  what  they  think  of  others — These  considered  as 
the  cause  and  proof  of  infidelity — Indifference  of  men  to  religion 
not  accidental,  but  the  result  of  settled  opinions — Mental  processes 
by  which  these  opinions  are  acquired — The  deductions  of  sense 
taken  for  those  of  reason — Reason  held  in  the  service  of  sense — 
Singular  love  of  the  world — Our  own  depravity  approved  when  it 
goes  to  excess  in  one  direction,  yet  hated  under  other  and  lower 
manifestations — Idolatry — Analogy  of  its  forms  to  human  charac- 
ter— Condition  of  the  heart — Its  changes  great,  yet  imperceptible^ — 
Nature,  not  counsel,  taken  for  a  guide  in  spiritual  perplexity — 
Its  inventions — Its  resentment  of  the  truth — Its  proneness  to  clothe 
God  in  its  own  likeness — Spiritual  idolatry — Analogies  bearing  on 
the  general  subject — True  basis  of  practical  infidelity. 

We  come  now  to  make  a  more  particular  applica- 
tion of  the  reasoning  in  the  preceding  chapter  to  the 
proofs  of  infidelity.  If  the  corruption  of  our  nature, 
in  one  and  another  form  of  its  action,  perverts  our 
judgment  of  our  own  moral  qualities,  it  is  reasonable 
to  anticipate  the  same  result  when  we  estimate  the 
moral  qualities  of  others.  This  principle  we  have 
already  considered  at  some  length,1  but  we  wish 
now  to  show  more  clearly  its  pertinence  to  our  main 
object  of  inquiry.  There  is  generally  admitted  to 
be  a  strong  analogy  between  what  men  think  of 
'  See  Chap.  II. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  171 

themselves  and  what  they  think  of  others.  To  point 
out  all  the  analogies  between  their  thoughts  and 
habits,  and  the  thoughts  and  habits  which  they 
ascribe  to  others,  though  it  might  be  instructive  and 
amusing,  would  not  comport  with  the  directness  of 
design  which,  at  this  point  of  our  progress,  it  is  im- 
portant to  observe.  A  few  examples  of  the  general 
admission  of  this  truth  will  be  sufficient  to  clear  the 
way  for  the  use  which  we  intend  to  make  of  it. 

We  have  seen  that  belief  is  not  so  purely  an  in- 
tellectual process,  as  not  to  be  overruled  and  con- 
trolled by  the  qualities  and  passions  of  the  heart. 
For  example,  when  we  see  a  fault  or  a  vice  in  those 
whom  we  love — a  friend,  a  brother,  or  a  parent — 
our  affection  so  modifies  our  perception  of  its  odious- 
ness,  that  we  never  see  the  whole  truth  and  nothing 
but  the  truth.  In  like  manner,  when  a  virtue  is  the 
virtue  of  an  enemy  or  a  rival,  it  is  ill-favoured  with 
us,  and  shares  at  best  but  the  fate  of  the  good  man, 
who  is  suspected  of  evil  for  being  found  in  evil  com- 
pany. The  vices,  crimes,  and  cruelties  of  a  success- 
ful leader  of  an  army  are  merged  in  the  glory  of 
victory,  and  seem  often  to  lose  their  character  in  our 
view,  so  dimly  do  we  perceive  the  spots  that  tarnish 
the  objects  of  our  admiration.  Soon  as  we  rise  in 
life,  like  plants  starting  from  the  earth  and  expand- 
ing their  leaves  to  the  glare  of  the  sun,  we  begin  to 


172  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

lend  our  feelings  to  influences  and  opinions,  which 
must  often  be  evil  where  what  is  evil,  so  often  pre- 
vails and  is  approved.  Intimately  and  variously 
associated  as  we  are  with  evil  opinions  and  practices 
in  others,  which,  on  account  of  our  partialities,  or 
for  the  seeming  virtues  with  which  they  are  con- 
nected, appear  scarcely  to  be  evil,  it  would  be  strange, 
when  our  making  evil  ours,  or  our  loving  it,  dimi- 
nishes the  sense  of  its  vileness,  if  we  did  not  become 
so  allied  to  evil,  as  to  lose  the  ability  of  perceiving 
justly  what  is  good.  That  we  do  acquire  this  dis- 
ability, in  some  degree  and  by  some  process,  appears 
to  be  the  consent  of  mankind.  So  universal  is  the 
influence  of  our  interests  and  partialities  on  our 
judgment  of  the  character  and  conduct  of  others, 
that  some  recognition  of  it  is  made  in  legal  enact- 
ments, and  in  all  courts  of  justice.  The  presence  of 
this  influence  is  spontaneously  acknowledged  in  all 
the  relations  and  intercourse  of  life.  We  expect  to 
see  men's  prejudices,  corruptions,  and  interests  com- 
ing out  in  likes  and  dislikes,  and  creating  or  effacing 
blemishes  in  the  character  of  all  around  them.  The 
greatest  and  the  best  of  men  are  subject  to  this  in- 
firmity, this  ill  eclipse  of  the  lights  within  them;  and 
we  need  not  here  repeat  that  ignorance,  self-suffi- 
ciency, selfishness,  pride,  and  envy,  (forms  all  in 
which   our  cherished    depravity  lodges   itself,   and 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  173 

works  wonders  not  readily  known  to  us,)  bring 
darkness  into  the  mind,  and  render  us  specially  lia- 
ble to  error  and  partiality  in  our  judgment  of  others 
as  well  as  of  ourselves.  Now  the  pertinent  ques- 
tion is,  whether  our  spiritual  relations  and  interests, 
our  various  passions  and  corruptions,  will  be  less 
likely  to  sully  our  perceptions,  and  deprave  our 
judgment  of  the  moral  perfections  of  God?  Can 
we  sanely  conclude,  that  as  an  object  of  contempla- 
tion he  is  the  exception  to  the  general  law,  lying 
without  the  sphere  of  that  influence  which  we  have 
seen  darkening  our  understandings,  plaguing  our 
hearts  with  false  interests  and  hopes,  deceiving  us 
in  our  opinions  of  our  own  qualities  and  virtues,  and 
dropping  its  images  on  every  object  we  behold  ? 
When  we  see  the  moral  imperfections  of  men  giving 
complexion  to  their  judgment  in  analogous  cases, 
shall  we  conclude  that  their  conceptions  will  be  un- 
affected by  them  in  this  the  most  important  of  all, 
the  one  of  all  others  in  which  their  conduct  is  ma- 
nifestly inconsistent  with  just  convictions,  and  in 
which  they  have  the  greatest  temptation  to  find 
their  likeness  where  no  likeness  is?  Have  we  less 
to  gain  from  discovering  a  semblance  between  our- 
selves and  God,. than  from  finding  in  us  (as  we  will 
by  reasonings  false)  goodness  equal  to  that  of  any 
of  our  fellow  creatures  ?  Is  our  welfare  less  at 
15* 


174  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

hazard  while  his  favour  is  uncertain,  than  when  the 
petty  interests  of  a  day  clash  with  the  wishes  of  a 
being  who  is  hated  because  he  covets  and  takes  to 
himself  what  we,  perhaps  unwisely,  desire  for  our- 
selves ?  Are  we  less  prone  to  hate  him,  or  to  rid 
ourselves  of  his  displeasure  by  self-imaginings  of  a 
sewet  icay  to  his  pardon,  when  we  see  his  attributes, 
armed  with  omnipotence  and  arrayed  against  us  as 
transgressors,  all  calling  for  the  surrender  of  our 
fondest  aims  and  delights,  and  proposing  in  their 
stead  pleasures  for  which  we  have  no  relish,  and 
pursuits  to  which  all  the  growth  of  our  life  is  averse? 
Is  not  this  a  plight  from  which  all  the  deceits  and 
powers  of  our  nature  are  stirred  to  find  a  riddance, 
if  not  by  faith  and  submission,  certainly  by  shutting 
our  eyes  to  the  danger,  or,  what  is  more  probable, 
by  causing  the  danger  to  disappear  through  our 
acquired  blindness  to  the  defilement  and  guilt  of 
sin,  and  a  consequent  inferring  of  his  favourable 
aspect  towards  us  ?  This  would  appear  to  be  the 
common  result,  judging  from  the  indifference  of 
men  who  are  in  this  condition.  It  may  be  said, 
however,  that  their  indifference  only  shows  that 
they  see  not  their  danger,  not  that  they  have  dis- 
posed of  it  by  this  process;  but  this  is  drawing  the 
difficulty  back  into  thicker  darkness,  not  bringing 
it  out  to  the  light.     Indifference,  in  the  case  sup- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  175 

posed,  is  either  an  over-bold,  a  daring  defiance  of 
God,  when  the  truth  is  fully  seen — a  thing  most 
unlikely  to  be  effected,  and  impossible  to  be  at- 
tained; or  it  is  the  fruit  of  a  compromise  with  sin, 
of  mistaken  views  of  ourselves  and  of  God.  There 
is  no  middle  ground:  men  are  not  without  opinions 
on  this  subject;  and  if  they  were,  it  would  only 
prove  them  blind  to  their  own  blemishes  and  to  the 
perfections  of  God,  which  is  the  very  thing  we  wish 
to  bring  out — their  unbelief  in  things  as  they  are — 
their  belief  in  them  as  they  are  not. 

If  we  attempt  an  analysis  of  this  state,  we  shall 
find  no  want  of  mental  processes  in  it.  Men  do 
not  accidentally  fall  into  such  easy  views  of  their 
sinfulness  as  to  lose  all  apprehension  of  God's  dis- 
pleasure; nor  do  they  secretly  arrogate  his  approba- 
tion, before  undergoing  a  more  secret  process  by 
which  they  succeed  in  evading  the  truth,  and 
in  possessing  him  with  the  same  views  of  them- 
selves as  they,  in  the  vanity  of  their  mind,  esteem 
to  be  fitting.1     Not  renouncing  their  sins,  not  em- 

1  This  brings  to  mind  what  Coleridge,  in  his  "  Table  Talk,"  says 
in  illustration  of  the  pretensions  of  the  church  of  Rome.  "  The  course 
of  Christianity  and  the  Christian  church  may  not  unaptly  be  likened 
to  a  mighty  river,  which  filled  a  wide  channel,  and  bore  along  with 
its  waters  mud,  and  gravel,  and  weeds,  till  it  met  a  great  rock  in  the 
middle  of  its  stream.  By  some  means  or  other  the  water  flows 
purely,  and  separated  from  the  filth,  in  a  deeper  and  narrower  course 


176  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

bracing  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it;  but  having  the 
'eyes  of  their  understanding  darkened'  through  the 
practice  of  sinning — every  deception,  every  preju- 
dice, every  interest,  so  considered,  of  which  our 
nature  is  capable,  all  are  called  to  their  relief — some 
flattering  their  passions  and  self-delusions,  some 
deriding  their  fears,  and  others  inventing  modes  of 
escape;  and  it  is  impossible  to  say  how  far  they  will 
carry  them,  but  carry  them  into  false  repose,  by 
causing  them  to  misconceive  and  discredit  things  as 
they  are,  we  know  they  will.  This  they  have 
done,  and  their  indifference  to  spiritual  things  is  the 
proof  of  it.  They  have  done  it  too  against  the  clear- 
est declarations  of  God;  no  ignorance  of  these  de- 
clarations is  pretended,  and  yet  their  conclusions 
fly  in  the  face  of  them  with  a  rudeness  that  seems 
to  say  that  all  fear,  all  belief  of  them,  is  gone.  This 
is  not  an  accident  in  their  experience;  it  is  the  fruit 
of  a  long  and  varied  process.  First,  sense  indulged, 
sense  predominating,  sinks,  debases,  and  enslaves 
reason,  and  thus  impairs  its  force  and  vigour;  and 
then,  sense  and  reason,  though   hardly  reason  any 

on  one  side  of  the  rock,  and  the  refuse  of  the  dirt  and  troubled  water 
goes  off  on  the  other  in  a  broader  current,  and  then  cries  out,  We 
are  the  river."  Ho  our  corruptions,  blinding  our  eyes,  are  the  more 
arrogant  the  greater  their  excess;  and  the  more  complete  their 
separation  from  the  truth,  the  higher  their  tide,  and  the  more  tur- 
bid— the  readier  they  arc  to  cry  out,   '  We  are  the  virtues.' 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY  177 

longer,  seem  often  to  unite  against  faith   in  aiding 
our  imperfect  and  partial  views  of  things. 

It  is  very  observable,  from  our  constitution  as  it 
now  is,  that,  if  we  could  banish  the  fear  of  evil  to 
come,  we  should  never  be  willing  to  change  our  con- 
dition for  one  more  spiritual  and  heavenly.  We  ap- 
pear to  be  made  for  the  world,  and  insensibly  grow 
to  it.  We  wish  for  nothing  better;  and  if  the  nearness 
and  certainty  of  death  did  not  check  our  fondness,  we 
could  be  quite  drowned  in  the  pleasure  of  having  an 
eternity  here.  We  can  be  amused  and  pleased  with 
the  veriest  trifles  that  have  a  respect  to  the  present 
world;  yet  we  cannot  be  entertained,  cannot  keep 
from  wearying,  while  we  are  confined  to  hear  only 
of  God,  and  of  the  provision  he  has  made  for  us  in 
eternity.  If  God  would  let  us  alone,  and  not  dis- 
turb our  enjoyment,  we  would  think  of  nothing 
more.  We  prefer  heaven,  indeed,  to  hell,  because 
we  have  heard  this  last  is  a  place  of  torment;  but 
could  we  have  our  wishes,  we  would  prefer  to  re- 
main where  we  are.  And  so  long  as  we  continue 
of  this  mind,  eternal  life  will  be  neglected,  with  all 
that  belongs  to  it.  We  shall  have  no  gratitude  for 
a  Saviour's  compassion,  we  shall  feel  no  attractives 
to  be  with  him,  we  shall  resent  his  cross,  the  gospel 
will  be  '  foolishness'  to  us;  and  when  our  duty  is 
proposed,  we  shall  feel  that  we  are  called  to  make  a 


178  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

great  sacrifice;  the  whole  interest  of  our  nature  will 
be  stirred  to  resistance;  and  if  we  neglect  it,  it  will 
not  be  by  chance,  it  will  not  be  turned  off  through 
inadvertence;  but  we  shall  prefer  the  world,  we  shall 
venture  a  little,  and  persuade  ourselves  more,  that  the 
danger,  not  so  great  as  many  would  have  it  consider- 
ed, will  not  be  increased- by  our  continued  devotion 
to  objects  proper  to  our  present  enjoyment,  and  even 
made  necessary  to  it  by  the  will  of  the  Creator. 

Thus,  there  is,  as  we  will  think,  reason  in  out 
choice,  though  that  be  but  sense  in  the  disguise  of  rea- 
son which  reasons  from  our  affections  and  preferences 
(assuming  them  to  be  right  as  they  are)  to  our  duty, 
and  infers  our  safety  hi  this  or  that  course  from  our 
desire  to  pursue  it.  Yet  so  it  is, — things  appear  quite 
rational  that  are  greatly  pleasing  and  desirable  to  us. 
But  this  our  contentedness  with  the  world,  when  the 
world  goes  well,  together  with  our  aversion  to  spi- 
ritual and  eternal  things,  which  is  so  great  that  we 
will  not  look  to  them,  will  not  seek  them,  when  we 
have  nothing  considerable,  nothing  satisfying,  to 
enjoy  or  hope  for  from  the  world,  yea  often,  when 
sin  revives  and  turns  all  our  feelings  and  remem- 
brances into  one  great  canker  of  guilt  and  dissatis- 
faction, constitutes  a  strong  ground  for  inferring 
that,  when  we  have  much  of  the  world  to  enjoy,  and 
more  of  it  to  hope  for,  when  the  sense  of  our  sins  is 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  179 

merged  in  the  love  of  them  and  of  ourselves,  and  spi- 
ritual things  are  not  less  disrelished,  we  shall  find  it 
easy  to  avert  the  glare  of  truth,  and  give  a  favourable 
countenance  to  our  affairs  and  hopes.  But  to  do 
this  in  such  a  case  would  not  surely  render  us  less 
chargeable  with  infidelity:  it  would  be  the  strongest 
proof  we  could  give,  that  we  do  not  take  God  at  his 
word,  and  do  not  credit  things  as  they  are;  for  it  is 
appropriating  his  favour,  and  taking  for  granted  our 
safety,  if  not  innocence,  when  our  sins  and  worldli* 
ness  are  at  the  flood.  Our  preference  presumes,  in- 
deed, we  do  not  perceive  his  superior  excellence,  or 
perceiving,  do  not  relish  it;  and  our  want  of  solici- 
tude, while  we  have  not  complied  with  the  condi- 
tions of  his  favour,  shows  we  have  a  way  of  our 
own  to  his  regard,  and  are,  it  may  be,  attributing  to 
him  the  blemishes  of  our  own  character,  which  ap- 
pear to  us  not  to  be  blemishes,  because  they  are  our 
own,  or  which  appear  to  be  very  innocent  defects, 
because  it  is  our  interest  and  pleasure  to  have  them 
so  considered.  This  is  the  ground  of  our  security; 
and,  let  it  be  noted,  it  is  as  propitious  to  the  claims 
of  our  faith  as  any  other  which  can  be  supposed ;  for 
we  must  either  admit  this  view  of  our  case,  or  we 
must  pretend  that  we  have  just  conceptions  of  the 
character  of  God  and  of  ourselves,  and  if  we  pretend 
the  latter,  while  we  depart  not  from  iniquity  and 


ISO  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

seek  not  his  favour,  our  conduct  is  witness  we  neither 
esteem  his  character  nor  value  his  favour;  and  what  is 
it,  not  to  esteem  his  character,  but  to  be  blind  to  it,  or 
to  think  it  worse  than  our  own,  which  we  do  esteem? 
what  is  it,  not  to  value  his  favour,  but  to  prefer  the 
pleasures  of  sin  to  it,  to  change  his  truth  into  a  lie, 
and  his  glory  into  an  image  not  his  own,  but  ours? 

When  the  depravity  of  our  nature  centres  in  one 
particular  direction,  or  when  it  shows  itself  in  any 
ruling  passion,  it  is  wonderful  how  readily  we  ap- 
prove it  in  this  character,  and  how  acceptable  it  is 
to  us  in  this,  while  in  most  other  forms  it  may  be 
odious.  The  reason  of  this  seems  to  be  the  diffi- 
culty of  seeing  our  own  defects,  and  especially  of 
seeing  them  as  defects,  or  marks  which  distinguish 
us,  when  they  have  outgrown  all  adverse  feelings, 
and  become,  as  it  were,  the  whole  of  our  nature.1 

1  Our  capacity  for  being  swayed  and  moulded  either  by  a  good  or 
evil  principle  or  passion  is  as  philosophically  as  beautifully  expressed 
m  the  following  lines  : — 

Toy-bewitch'd, 
Made  blind  by  lusts,  disherited  of  soul, 
No  common  centre  man,  no  common  sire 
Knoweth  !  A  sordid,  solitary  thing, 
'Mid  countless  brethren,  with  a  lonely  heart, 
Through  courts  and  cities  the  smooth  savage  roams, 
Feeling  himself,  his  own  low  self,  the  whole  ; 
When  he  by  sacred  sympathy  might  make 
The  whole  one  self  !  self,' that  no  alien  knows! 
Self,  spreading  still !  Oblivious  of  its  own, 
Yet  all  of  all  possessing ! 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  181 

At  first  sight,  it  might  appear  difficult  to  under- 
stand how  we  can  be  so  grossly  imposed  upon  in  a 
point,  which  we  are  capable  of  knowing  so  much 
better  than  others;  but  it  will  not  appear  so,  if  we 
reflect  that  we  are  deceived  in  judging  of  ourselves, 
just  as  we  are  in  judging  of  other  things,  when  our 
passions,  prejudices,  and  inclinations  are  called  in  as 
dictators,  and  we  suffer  ourselves  to  see  and  be  con- 
vinced just  so  far  and  no  farther  than  they  give  us 
leave.  They  make  it  hard  for  us  to  pass  an  equi- 
table judgment  in  matters  where  our  interests  are 
concerned,  disposing  us,  when  there  happen  to  be 
strong  appearances  against  the  justice  of  the  course 
to  which  we  incline,  to  put  favourable  constructions 
upon  them,  and  even  sometimes,  when  the  probing 
of  interest  is  deepest,  to  assign  and  think  we  find 
the  best  and  most  convincing  reasons  where  no  reason 
can  be  seen  by  others.  But  the  deceit  is  still  stronger 
with  us,  and  we  much  poorer  casuists,  when  we  come 
to  judge  of  ourselves,  the  dearest  of  all  parties;  when 
the  question  is,  what  condemnation  shall  we  pass 
on  ourselves,  or  allow  others  to  pass: — this  is  the 
labour — this  the  matter  in  which  it  is  not  human 
to  see  the  light,  when  so  much  darkness  is  coveted; 
not  possible  to  be  severe,  when  there  is  such  an  in- 
stinct, such  an  impulse  to  be  kind  and  partial,  or  to 
efface,  for  the  time,  all  the  tender  impressions,  with 
16 


1S2  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

which  we  find  so  much  reason  to  be  contented,  and 
which  have  disabled  us  so  long,  from  thinking  justly 
of  ourselves,  that,  thinking  wrongly,  has  come  to  be 
with  us,  the  soundest,  as  well  as  the  most  agreeable 
thinking  we  have.  Hence  it  is  we  every  day  see 
men  guilty  of  vicious  and  dishonest  actions,  who  yet 
reflect  so  little,  or  so  partially  upon  what  they  have 
done,  that  their  consciences  seem  to  be  free  from 
guilt,  or  the  remotest  suspicion,  that  they  are  what 
the  tenor  and  evidence  of  their  life  show  they  are. 
They  see  what  no  one  else  sees,  some  secret  and  flat- 
tering circumstances  in  their  favour,  which  make  a 
great  difference  between  their  own  case  and  that  of 
other  delinquents.  Of  the  many  false,  revengeful, 
covetous,  vicious,  and,  if  it  please,  stupid  persons, 
which  abound  in  the  world,  there  is  not  one  that 
singles  out  himself  as  guilty,  or  that  would  not  think 
it  a  slander  to  have  any  of  his  particular  crimes  or 
weaknesses,  laid  to  his  charge.  It  may  be  they  join 
in  a  cry  against  sin,  in  every  other  form  but  that  in 
which  it  prevails  in  their  own  practice,  or  that  this 
form  of  it  is  hated  in  others,  while,  in  themselves,  it 
appears  the  more  devoid  of  aggravation  and  turpi- 
tude, the  greater  the  excess  to  which  it  is  carried. 

No  one  is  competent  to  describe  the  many  absurd 
and  palpable  deceits  and  cheats,  into  which  the  un- 
derstanding is  betrayed  by  the  sins  that  habitually 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  183 

beset  us;  to  trace  the  several  turnings  and  windings 
of  an  evil  heart,  and  detect  it  through  all  the  glosses, 
shapes,  and  appearances,  which  it  assumes;  but  none 
is  more  gross  and  common,  than  our  failing  to  per- 
ceive the  evil  of  any  sinful  temper  or  indulgence, 
when  our  practice,  our  fondness  therein,  has  trans- 
ported it  to  a  passion.  We  cannot  but  be  convinced 
this  is  so,  if  we  will  look  on  what  is  passing  around  us, 
especially,  if  we  will  look  into  our  hearts  and  observe 
how  actions  stand  there,  how  those  which  strong 
inclination  prompts  us  to  commit,  and  custom  has 
made  ours,  something  as  our  breathing  is,  are  dressed 
out,  as  for  public  appearance,  in  all  the  gloss  and  cha- 
racter which  a  flattering  hand  can  give  them;  while 
others,  to  which  we  feel  no  propensity,  though  per- 
haps not  so  bad  in  themselves,  find  no  quarter  from 
us,  or  at  least  appear  deformed  and  naked,  with  all  the 
proofs  of  folly  and  viciousness  stamped  upon  them. 
The  man  who  lives  for  pleasure,  though  a  most  use- 
less body,  cares  not  that  he  is  useless,  yea,  worse  than 
useless — knows  no  happiness  but  what  is  seated  in  his 
senses,  stupid  and  overgrown  with  sense — and  sees  no 
harm,  himself  miserably  harmless,  in  the  indulgence 
and  gratification  of  appetites,  which,  in  his  reasoning 
moods,  he  concludes  were  given  him  only  for  that 
end.  He  lives  unto  himself,  yet  stoutly  despises  others 
who  live  so  in  pursuance  of  different  ends,  and  grows 


184  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

perhaps  virtuous  in  his  own  estimation,  through  a 
propensity  to  congratulate  himself  on  his  freedom 
from  their  defects,  when  he  owes  this  exemption  to 
a  fulness  of  iniquity  that  is  running  over,  and  can 
therefore  make  no  room  for  more.    He  who  makes  it 
his  ohject  to  gain  character  and  consequence,  to  esta- 
blish the  fortune  and  raise  the  name  of  his  family, 
though  his  object  be  higher  and  worthier  of  your 
praise,   runs   an   equal    distance   from   God,   bends 
his  great  soul,  if  you  will  call  it  so,  to  a  god  of 
his  own,  that   is   unspeakably  below   himself,  and 
pays  his  devotions  with  a  diligence  which,  rightly 
directed,  would   be  more  than   sufficient  to   make 
his  calling  sure  to  'the  inheritance  of  all  things.' 
In  prosecution  of  what  he  prizes  more  than  '  all/ 
and  therefore  in  derogation  of  <  all,'   he  promises 
himself  contentment  with  only  a  portion  of  'that 
which   satisfieth    not' — he   studies,  contrives,  rises 
early,  goes   late   to   rest,  and   '  eats   the   bread  of 
carefulness;'   he  builds  up  and  pulls  down  again, 
levels  mountains  and  raises  up  valleys,  turns  rivers 
into  dry  ground  and  dry  ground  into  rivers,  all  the 
while  ready  to  pity  or  condemn  those  who  pursue 
other  designs,  but  acknowledging  God  in  nothing,  and 
in  nothing  disapproving  of  himself.     It  is  the  same 
with  the  proud,  the  ambitious,  the  self-conceited,  and 
many  other  very  common  characters  in  life.     They 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  185 

cannot  bear  their  likeness  in  others;  in  themselves, 
when  their  infirmity  or  viciousness  runs  to  a  passion, 
it  is  faultless.  They  have  reasons  to  show  it  so. 
The  purely  selfish  man  doubts,  when  you  tell  him 
these  are  better  motives  than  those  which  actuate 
his  own  mind.  He  considers  the  sacrifice  of  his 
neighbour  for  the  good  of  others,  was  prompted  by 
the  same  motive,  which  induced  him  to  withhold  his 
own  bounty,  the  promotion  of  his  individual  interest, 
and  that,  if  there  be  a  difference  in  their  characters, 
his  own  is  the  more  worthy,  because  he  has  not 
attempted  to  cover  his  designs,  or  to  win  favour 
with  the  paint  of  benevolence.  The  miser  decries 
prodigality,  intemperance,  and  sensuality  —  vices 
from  which  he  has  been  preserved  by  the  love  of 
money.  If  you  persuade  him  to  assist  the  needy, 
when  he  reflects  upon  it,  though  it  may  be  the  best 
deed  of  his  life,  he  will  be  angry  with  himself,  for 
having  yielded  to  your  solicitation;  if  you  talk  to 
him  of  the  pleasures  of  beneficence,  he  will  under- 
stand as  little  as  the  blind  man  would  of  colours  he 
had  never  seen.  Now,  what  idea  will  men  of  this 
description  naturally  form  of  God?  What  is  there 
in  the  humility,  the  self-denial,  the  benevolence, 
which  he  deems  essential  to  the  glory  of  our  nature, 
that  would  reconcile  them  to  just  conceptions  of  his 
character,  or  permit  them  to  feel  complacency  in  his 
16* 


186  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

will?  They  must  either  renounce  themselves,  or 
renounce  God,  if  they  cannot,  through  self-flattery, 
change  him  into  what  he  is  not,  and  make  him  (as 
they  do  the  conduct  of  others)  accord  with  the  do- 
minant principles  of  their  own  character.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  imagine  which  they  will  do.  There  is,  in 
their  peculiar  passion,  an  overgrowth  which  will  bear 
no  competition,  and  when  pressed  to  an  extremity, 
it  will  discharge  itself  in  implacable  hate  to  any 
thing  of  a  contrary  nature.  They  will,  therefore, 
find  it  much  easier  to  believe  they  are  in  favour  with 
God,  to  reason  themselves  bright  and  acceptable  be- 
fore him,  than  to  welcome  sentiments  which  set  at 
naught  all  that  they  have  ever  done,  and  all  that  they 
have  grown  fond  and  perverse  in  thinking  of  them- 
selves. While  they  remain  unchanged,  they  might, 
without  violence  to  nature,  adopt  the  language  given 
to  mightier,  perhaps  not  to  more  self-complacent, 

spirits: — 

"  What  place  can  be  for  us 

Within  heaven's  bound,  unless  heaven's  Lord  supreme 
We  overpower  1    Suppose  he  should  relent. 

With  what  eyes  could  we 

Stand  in  his  presence  humble,  and  receive 
Strict  laws  imposed,  to  celebrate  his  throne 
With  warbled  hymns,  and  to  his  Godhead  sing 

Forced  hallelujahs  1 

This  must  be  our  task 

In  heaven,  this  our  delight ;  how  wearisome 
Eternity  so  spent,  in  worship  paid 


To  whom  we  hate 


i" 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  187 

If  it  be  in  accordance  with  the  prevailing  taste, 
the  strongest  growth  of  individuals,  to  have  such 
views  of  heaven  and  of  its  worship,  we  may  con- 
clude that  all  men  will  cherish  views  of  these  and 
of  like  objects,  bearing  a  clear  analogy  to  the  varie- 
ties of  their  own  character,  and,  of  course,  delusive 
and  unworthy. 

There  are  other  and  very  different  cases,  in  which 
our  judgment  is  carried  by  habit  and  association, 
which  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  same  truth.  He, 
who  conforms  not  to  a  prevailing  fashion,  though  he 
conforms  to  one,  once  equally  approved  by  those 
who  are  now  offended  with  his  singularity,  will 
soon  be  thought  destitute  of  common  taste  and  judg- 
ment, so  great  is  the  influence  of  association  over 
our  sense  of  propriety  and  elegance.  A  vice,  also, 
which  is  detested  by  a  man  at  one  time,  so  often 
prevails  in  his  subsequent  life,  without  exciting  his 
shame  or  remorse,  that  we  are  ready  to  say  vice 
needs  only  to  be  practised  to  be  approved;  and  in- 
deed this  result  is  often  seen  in  the  changes  which 
occur  in  the  character  of  large  communities.  Na- 
tions, as  well  as  individuals,  differ  from  each  other 
in  nothing,  more  than  in  their  shame  or  approbation 
of  vices  and  practices,  which  the  Scriptures  and 
right  reason  abundantly  condemn.  If  fashion  and 
practice  in  dress,  in  manners,  and  in  vices,  operate 


1S8  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

in  this  manner  upon  our  tastes  and  decisions,  why- 
may  not  they  or  similar  causes— the  obliquities  and 
peculiarities  of  our  own  character — bewilder  and 
pervert  our  judgment  of  moral  qualities,  when  we 
look  at  them  as  existing  in  the  character  of  God?1 
Light  enough  would  burst  on  this  subject,  if  we 
should  open  the  history  of  our  race,  and  see  what 
wild  and  discordant  opinions  have  been  entertained, 
what  wretched  ignorance  of  most  evident,  and  what 

'  "  In  one  of  the  lunatic  asylums  of  France,  there  is  a  maniac  who 
is  labouring  under  an  interesting  delusion.  His  serious  impression 
is,  that  he  was  beheaded  during  the  revolution,  and  that  another  per- 
son's head  has  been  substituted  for  his  own  !  Hypochondriacs  have 
ere  now  fancied  themselves  hand-organs,  articles  of  household  furni- 
ture, or  steam-engines — to  say  nothing  of  beasts,  birds,  and  reptiles. 
Some  have  imagined  themselves  to  be  frogs  imbedded  in  stone; 
others  that  they  were  sheets  of  glass,  and  would  break  to  pieces 
(being  cracked)  if  they  attempted  to  move.  These  are  extreme 
cases ;  but  that  of  the  guillotined  maniac  applies,  with  some  small 
variation,  to  a  far  larger  class  of  persons  than  may  be  supposed. 
To  meet  a  man  on  the  outside  of  a  lunatic  asylum,  who  believes 
that  he  has  another  person's  head  on  his  shoulders,  is  any  thing  but 
uncommon.  How  many  of  our  ode  writers  have  believed  that  they 
were  severally  possessed  of  the  head  of  Pindar  1  Where  is  the  ora- 
tor who  hesitates  to  point  to  his  own  individual  caput  as  the  head 
of  Demosthenes  ?  Scott's  head  is  on  a  dozen  pair  of  shoulders  at 
least ;  and  there  is  more  than  one  writer  living  who  can  boast  of 
the  identical  head  of  Milton.  We  are  daily  introduced  to  illustrious 
members  of  the  family  of  the  Wrongheads,  who  have  never  yet  been 
inside  a  lunatic  asylum."  The  writer  (unknown  to  us)  might  have 
continued,  that  the  vanity,  selfism,  or  what  not,  which  prompts  so 
many  to  fancy  they  have  the  heads  of  others,  would  as  easily  appro- 
priate their  hearts,  and  as  convincingly,  with  sufficient  motive,  dis- 
cover their  likeness  to  great  virtue  as  to  great  genius. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  189 

ready  belief  of  most  absurd,  principles  in  religion 
and  morals,  men  have  disclosed,  who  were  even 
knowing  and  learned  in  many  respects,  but  untaught 
of  God  in  these. 

Our  own  heart  is  a  garden  where  all  that  is  whole- 
some and  delightful  has  claim  to  grow,  but  a  garden 
now  turned  to  a  heath:  it  is  a  fountain  where  all 
knowledge  springs,  but  a  fountain  which  our  cor- 
ruptions have  sealed  up;  it  is  a  book,  once  plain  and 
legible,  but  a  book  now  so  interlined  with  the  inser- 
tion of  our  good  works,  and  defaced  with  the  erasure 
of  our  misdeeds,  that  we  cannot  read  our  own  his- 
tory in  it,  though  it  be  as  one  written  with  our  own 
hand.  It  has  come  to  be  reason  enough  for  us,  that 
we  are  good,  if  we  be  not  '  as  this  publican,'  if  we 
keep  '  clean  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter/  if 
we  (  outwardly  appear  righteous  unto  men,'  though 
within  we  be  f  full  of  hypocrisy  and  iniquity.' 
Though  we  be  already  on  the  lowgrounds  of  de- 
generacy, and  choose  to  remain  there,  yet  if  we  be 
raised  as  molehills  above  the  common  level,  we 
become  dizzy  with  our  mountain  bulk  and  height, 
and  all  glory  seems  to  rise  and  set  on  us,  reaching 
not  to  the  depth  below.  It  is  our  elevation  that 
charms  us  so:  it  may  be  but  a  cold  and  barren  one; 
lower  places  may  indeed  be  blooming  and  teeming 
with  the  loveliest  flowers  and  the  choicest  fruits; 


190  POrULAR    INFIDELITY. 

still  it  is  enough  for  our  glorying  that  they  are  the 
lowlands,  and  that  we  are  the  heights.  But  though 
we  are  so  easily  deceived,  so  patiently  ignorant  of 
ourselves,  and  so  inapt  to  take  instruction  directly 
from  our  own  hearts;  still  we  may  discern,  if  we 
will  not  own,  the  features  of  our  nature  in  the  con- 
duct of  others.  Facts  in  human  practice,  when  con- 
sidered in  their  origin  and  effects,  when  viewed  as 
reaching  before  and  after,  have  a  relationship  to  us 
which  we  cannot  deny,  and  assume  the  dignity  of 
the  truest  'philosophy, teaching  by  example.'  The 
instruction  thus  imparted  seems  to  come  to  us  on 
our  own  authority;  we  yield  to  it  with  something 
of  the  grace,  not  to  say  elation,  with  which  we  re- 
ceive the  respect  that  is  shown  to  ourselves.  Facts, 
standing  out  and  staring  on  us  in  every  direction, 
evince  that  we  are  liable  to  the  grossest  error  in  our 
estimate  of  moral  qualities,  and  that  the  great  bent 
of  our  nature  is  to  ascribe  our  likeness,  or  nothing 
better,  to  other  beings,  be  our  character  what  it  may. 
Changes  for  worse  are  going  on  in  the  moral  and 
religious  sentiments  of  men,  and  no  thought  is  taken 
of  it,  and  no  depreciation  is  felt.  They  are  quickly 
at  a  distance  from  the  goodness,  if  goodness  it  be 
called  that  was  none,  which  caused  them  to  look 
with  horror  on  practices  they  now  adopt  and  ap- 
prove.    The   same   is  true  of  churches,  neighbour- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  191 

hoods,  and  governments.  Their  degeneracy  does 
not  come  in  like  a  flood,  bearing  away  at  once  all 
established  opinions;  but  it  steals  its  way  along, 
showing  no  front  that  shocks  the  better  sense,  giving 
motion  to  the  still  waters  of  pride  and  self-confi- 
dence, loosing  slowly  the  joints  and  pins  of  faith, 
raising  differences  to  be  made  up  by  a  compromise 
of  better  convictions,  yet  holding  itself  distant,  till 
all  is  done  without  exciting  dangerous  alarms;  so 
that,  when  men  think  themselves  quite  as  good  as 
ever,  a  new  and  evil  order  of  things  is  in  vogue; 
religion  has  her  temples  and  followers  yet,  but  her 
spiritual  songs  and  devotions  have  nearly  died  away, 
the  live  coals  on  her  altars  are  going  out,  and  the 
worshippers  are  fancying  themselves  in  a  good  con- 
dition, if  they  offer  to  God  but  the  actions  of  what 
is  now,  though  it  was  not  lately  so,  an  ordinary  and 
moral  life,  without  the  scandal  and  alloys  of  a  great 
impiety.  When  the  true  fervour  and  spirit  of  reli- 
gion are  thus  lost,  and  its  hopes  still  retained,  no 
wonder  that  men  bring  to  it  their  i  mint,  anise,  and 
cummin,'  and  stoutly  defend  its  carnal  ceremonies, 
high  masses,  and  absolutions;  for  it  is  much  easier 
to  put  in  pretensions  to  holiness  upon  such  a  me- 
chanical system  as  is  left  of  it,  than  where  the  cha- 
racter is  only  to  be  got  and  maintained  by  a  painful 
conflict  with  ourselves,  a  patient  submission  of  our 


192  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

wills  to  a  service,  which  is  as  difficult  as  improving 
to  our  nature,  because  it  improves  only  when  it 
crosses  and  changes  it.  The  current  of  our  nature 
runs  from  the  Creator:  it  may  be  clogged  and  di- 
rected this  and  the  other  way  by  our  own  creations, 
but  never  can  be  turned  back  by  them.  We  may 
inflict  wounds  and  pains  upon  ourselves,  but  we 
shall  not  find  it  so  easy  to  excite  a  holy  love  to  ob 
jects  that  are  disagreeable  to  our  hearts.  We  may 
daily  cross  ourselves  with  the  hand,  and  count  our 
beads;  but  nature  will  resent  the  task  of  daily  num- 
bering our  sins,  and  crossing  our  fond  desires.  We 
may  offer  the  sacrifice  of  bulls  and  rams,  starve  em- 
bodies, or  give  them  to  the  flames;  but  we  shall  find 
it  more  difficult  to  offer  up  our  spirits  as  in  dust  and 
ashes  to  God  ;  more  difficult  a  great  deal  to  give 
him  in  sacrifice  '  the  works  of  the  flesh,'  the  lusts 
of  pride,  anger,  intemperance,  and  revenge.  We 
may  wash  and  swim  in  holy  water,  and  receive  at 
the  confessional  absolution  on  absolution;  but  tc 
live  so  as  to  find  it  through  grace,  not  at  the  hands 
of  men,  but  at  the  hands  of  God  ;  to  gain  an  unction 
from  on  high — this  is  the  great  achievement.  So 
strong  is  the  propensity  in  our  nature  to  sense  and 
self-reliance,  that  the  understanding  is  unequal  for 
preserving  a  just  self-estimation,  and  no  match  for 
the  impression  of  outward  things:  there  may  be  the 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  193 

greatest  propriety  and  purity  in  things  of  this  na- 
ture, nothing  retained  in  our  worship  but  what, 
duly  considered,  would  excite  and  assist  it;  still 
this  propensity,  if  unchecked,  will  show  itself  in  a 
disposition  to  thank  God  that  we  are  not  '  as  other 
men,'  dreamers,  bigots,  or  extortioners;  while  we 
are  perhaps  relying  on  external  rites,  c  straining  at 
gnats,  and  swallowing  camels/  keeping  up  appear- 
ances when  reality  is  gone,  and  contenting  our- 
selves with  shadows  when  we  might  have  substance. 
Looking  to  these  changes,  to  the  secret  processes 
of  them,  and  to  their  effects  in  depraving  the  judg- 
ment, it  would  be  a  singular  stupidity  in  us  not  to 
see  that  there  is  no  security  for  the  correctness  of 
our  moral  sentiments,  but  in  the  grace  of  God,  and 
that  we  are  liable,  as  others,  to  be  turned  and  de- 
luded '  after  the  same  example  of  unbelief.'  When, 
therefore,  we  aspire  to  know  God,  or  to  know  our- 
selves, we  shall  but  grow  in  the  confidence  of  igno- 
rance, unless  we  first  empty  ourselves  of  all  vain 
conceits,  and  our  hearts  be  fully  convinced  of  our 
own  vileness,  yea,  nothingness,  in  his  sight.  If  we 
bring  into  our  service  high  thoughts  of  ourselves, 
we  shall  have  low  thoughts  of  God ;  if  we  turn  our 
desires  and  fondnesses  into  judges,  they  will  clear 
the  guilty. 

17 


194  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

He  that  '  builds  his  house  upon  the  sand;'1  that 
'  walketh  in  darkness;'2  that  i  knoweth  not  the  way 
into  the  city;'3  that  'hath  said  in  his  heart,  There 
is  no  God/4  the  Scriptures  style  a  'fool/  a  man 
whose  corruptions  have  rendered  him  void  of  un- 
derstanding in  sacred  things,  and  hence  the  felicity 
of  that  expression  of  Solomon,  '  the  wickedness  of 
folly,  even  of  foolishness.'5  On  subjects  purely  in- 
tellectual men  have  had  the  absurdest  notions,  and 
the  very  excess  of  their  absurdity  has  rendered 
them  tenacious  of  their  truth,  for  the  greater  the 
error,  the  more  unwelcome  is  the  exposure  of  it; 
but  we  should  never  believe,  if  we  did  not  know, 
they  could  be  so  far  forsaken  of  their  reason,  yet 
having  so  much  impression  of  the  existence  and 
power  of  a  Deity,  as  to  fall  down  in  his  worship 
before  stocks  and  stones  which  their  own  hands  had 
carved,  to  read  their  fortunes  in  the  star&,  yea,  even 
in  the  palms  of  their  hands,  and  to  guide  their  enter- 
prises by  the  auguries  of  a  providence  made  known 
by  the  flight,  the  posture,  or  the  singing  of  birds. 
How  absurdly,  indeed,  has  man's  sentiment  of  a 
Deity  been  disclosed !  The  annals  of  idolatry  and 
polytheism,  with  all  their  teaching,  teach  that  there 

»  Matt.  vii.  26.  2  Eccl.  ii.  14.  3  lb.  x.  15. 

4  Psalm  xiv.  1.  *  Eccl.  vii.  25. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  195 

is  a  true  God,  and  that  the  tendency  of  our  nature  is 
to  hring  him  down  and  fashion  him  as  one  of  our- 
selves. Some  degree  of  religious  belief  has  de- 
scended through  all  the  generations  of  men,  with 
modifications  as  various  as  their  character  and  con- 
dition. It  is  not  that  they  believe  nothing,  but  that 
they  believe  not  the  truth,  which  constitutes  their 
idolatry — for  something,  it  seems,  they  will  believe; 
they  will  have  a  futurity,  rewards  and  punishments, 
a  providence;  but  they  all  bear  stamps  of  their  own 
creation,  and  show  a  carving  and  moulding  to  hu- 
man tastes. 

Now  it  matters  not  to  the  nature  of  idolatry, 
which  as  to  the  true  God  is  but  another  name  for 
infidelity,  whether  men  make  images  and  bow  down 
to  them,  or  entertain  notions  of  God  which  repre- 
sent him  to  the  mind  without  his  perfections — such 
in  any  respect  as  he  is  not,  such  as  they  are,  sueh  as 
any  thing  is;  for  we  but  debase  him  by  our  loftiest 
comparisons — there  is  nothing  '  like  unto  the  Lord 
our  God,  who  humbleth  himself  to  behold  the  things 
that  are  in  heaven  and  in  the  earth.'1  Our  idols 
may  be  'without  form,  and  void;'  we  may  not  call 
them  'legion/  but  one,  and  that  a  spiritual  being; 
yet  if  we  endow  him  with  our  nature,  make  him 
speak  peace  to  our  fears,  when  our  unmuffled  guilt 

1  Psalm  cxiii.  5,  6. 


196  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

cries  there  is  and  can  be  no  peace  in  our  way  of 
seeking  it,  what  elevation  can  our  faith  and  devo- 
tion give  us?  what  better  do  we  than  they  who  wor- 
ship gods  of  their  own  hands?  They  choose  a 
more  painful  service,  one  less  indulgent  to  nature  ; 
we  rest  our  safety  on  no  difficult  conditions,  incur 
no  expense  to  our  desires,  and  have  the  matter  laid 
out  to  our  taste  at  once. 

It  is  clearly  observable  there  is  that  in  our  nature 
which  has  ( sought  out  many  inventions/1  which 
will  hew  out  to  itself  *  cisterns,'  and  rest  in  them, 
though  they  be  *  broken,'  and  <  can  hold  no  water,'2 
will  l  climb  up  some  other  way,'3  will  do  any  thing 
to  gain  its  end;  but  how  to  find  rest  in  Christ,  it  has 
no  understanding,  nor  will  have  any;  it  labours  or 
rests  according  to  its  own  provisions,  but  never 
comes  to  the  truth,  nor  will  come,  because  it  '  seeks 
it  not  by  faith,  but  as  it  were  by  works'4 — verifying 
by  all  its  devices  the  words,  e  Behold,  I  lay  in  Zion 
a  stumbling-stone  and  rock  of  offence.'  Within  the 
circle  we  thus  draw  for  ourselves,  we  too  often  run 
the  race  of  life,  try  all  experiments,  and  sit  down  at 
last,  wearied  and  empty — in  utter  despair  of  suc- 
cess— having  nothing  to  trust  to,  nor  knowing  where 
to  lay  the  fault,  whether  in  the  incapacity  of  our 
nature,  or  the  insufficiency  of  the  provisions  of  the 
1  Eccl.  ix.  29.       2  jer>  ii,  13.        3  j0hn  x.  1.       4  Rom.  ix.  32,  33. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  l\)  ( 

Creator.  We  think  we  have  done  well — done  what 
we  could — but  our  foundation  fails,  dread  darkness 
covers  the  future,  and  we  know  not  which  way  to 
turn  or  where  to  betake  ourselves  for  refuge.  We 
trust  to  any  thing  before  Christ,  or  trust  him  blindly 
now  for  want  of  other  trusts,  drop  dead  for  his  arms, 
when  dropping  we  can  catch  on  nothing  else,  and 
take  him,  when  we  have  not  the  sense  that  we  take 
him — a  choice  of  evils.  What  so  hard  to  believe 
or  do,  as  that  which  turns  our  wisdom  to  foolish- 
ness, and  brings  us  learners  at  the  foot  of  the  cross? 
What  so  thwarts  our  unconsidering  humour  as  to  be 
shut  up  to  self-loathing,  and  left  to  utter  dependence 
on  the  grace  of  others?  What  shifts  we  make  of  it! 
What  colours  fancy  on  us,  and  what  smiles  provoke, 
to  rid  ourselves  of  fear!  Our  many-formed  unbe- 
lief— stoutof  heart  and  witty  of  invention — drives  out 
the  conviction  here  and  there,  discharges  the  cloud, 
and  brings  on  the  light  and  calm  again.  In  every 
form  it  takes,  it  has  our  features,  and  its  reasonings 
all  a  tincture  of  our  virtues.  No  wonder  men  often 
find  their  self-sufficiency  a  greater  trouble  than  their 
sins,  and  take  the  truths  of  God  easier  than  the  sur- 
feits of  his  bounty — their  faith  has  put  them  to 
sleep.  They  fancy  him  to  be,  if  not  '  altogether 
such  a  one  as  themselves,'1  yet  such  as  makes  them 

i  Psalm  1.21. 

17* 


198  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

think  *  they  were  in  great  fear,  where  no  fear  was.n 
And  if  we  would  largely  consider  this  tendency  of 
our  nature,  it  might  lead  us  to  discover  the  causes  of 
our  indifference  to  the  truths  of  divine  revelation. 
That  we  have  an  indifference,  which  appears  won- 
derful, and  unlike  any  thing  else  in  human  practice, 
when  contrasted  with  the  weight  and  interest  of 
what  is  revealed— that  we  have  this  tendency  to 
invest  all  the  beings  of  our  contemplation  with  our 
own  qualities— both  are  truths  which  we  do  but 
prove  by  being  blind  to  them,  and  which,  if  they 
may  not  claim  our  assent  that  they  are  revealed, 
may  claim  it  at  least  that  they  are  supported  by  the 
most  convincing  evidence  of  analogy.  Whence  is  it 
that  the  Ethiopians,  when  they  would  paint  their 
gods  in  the  highest  style  of  beauty,  colour  them 
black,  if  not  because  it  is  their  own  complexion? 
Whence  the  character  ascribed  by  impostors  and 
idolaters  to  their  deities,  if  not  from  the  principle 
of  transferring  their  own  qualities  to  the  objects  of 
their  worship?  Whence  the  sensual  paradises  and 
Elysian  fields  which  these  deities  are  to  provide  for 
their  votaries,  if  the  former  are  not  supposed  to 
approve  of  those  sensual  gratifications  which  are  the 
chief  delight  of  the  latter,  and  which,  therefore, 
they  imagine  to  be  the^  appropriate  reward  of  their 
1  Psalm  liii.  5. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  199 

service?  Whence  is  it  that  they  are  generally  sup- 
posed to  be  capricious,  revengeful,  the  protectresses 
of  thieves  and  impostors,  or  the  encouragers  of  de- 
structive passions,  if  there  be  not  a  tendency  in  us 
to  conceive  all  beings  like  ourselves,  and  to  trans- 
fer to  the  invisible  agent,  which  we  worship  as 
God,  those  qualities  with  which  we  are  familiarly 
acquainted,  or  those  of  which  we  are  intimately 
conscious?  Whence  is  it  that  many,  on  whom 
the  true  light  shines,  think  themselves  so  moral 
in  their  practice  as  not  to  need  an  atonement, 
and  find  it  so  difficult  to  believe  in  a  pure  and  spi- 
ritual religion  which  requires  them  to  'look  at 
things  not  seen,'  if  they  have  not  too  low  concep- 
tions of  the  nature  of  sin  and  holiness,  to  have  any 
relish  for  a  religion  which  does  not  approve  and 
reward  their  virtues,  or  to  think  it  credible  that 
beings  so  inoffensive  as  they  should  ever  find  aught 
but  smiles  of  favour  in  the  face  of  Him  who  made 
them?  Whence  is  it  that  others  can  rely  on  the 
atonement  for  pardon  and  salvation,  without  any  re- 
novation of  their  nature,  if  they  are  not  so  in  love 
with  their  lusts  and  vices,  that  they  have  lost  the  sense 
of  their  guilt,  and  the  fear  that  they  are  displeasing 
to  God?  Whence  is  it,  if  not  on  this  ground,  that 
they  can  count  on  fulness  of  joy  in  his  presence, 
without  a  change  of  those  dispositions  which  create 


200  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

a  disrelish  for  his  worship  here?  Whence  is  it  we 
so  often  see  men,  who  profess  to  believe  the  word 
of  God,  dissatisfied  with  plain  and  uncompromising 
exhibitions  of  its  truth,  if  sin  has  not  wrought  a 
proneness  in  our  nature  to  narrow  the  breadth  of  its 
commandments,  and  to  make  them  wink  and  con- 
nive at  our  cherished  imperfections  ?  Whence  is  it 
we  so  often  see  delinquents  lull  their  remorse  by- 
making  allowances  for  the  strength  of  temptation, 
and  by  considering  examples  of  similar  delinquency 
in  the  life  of  others,  not  repenting  or  entertaining 
the  design  of  their  duty,  if  there  be  not  something 
in  the  very  alarms  of  guilty  men  which  drives  them 
to  means  of  justification,  and  so,  if  may  be,  to  put 
out  the  fire  which- burns  and  lightens  in  their  spi- 
rits, without  removing  the  materials  by  which  it  was 
enkindled?  Whence  the  blindness  to  moral  colours, 
and  the  stupidity  which  we  see  to  be  the  unfailing 
concomitants  of  great  viciousness  of  life,  if  there  be 
not  something  in  the  practice  of  iniquity  that  tends 
to  extinguish  the  sense  of  its  odiousness,  and  to  fill 
the  sinner's  mind  with  dreams  of  security  and  ac- 
ceptance, just  when  his  danger  is  greatest?  Whence 
do  we  see  men  devoid  of  religion  so  prone  to  judge 
of  the  excellency  of  its  precepts,  and  of  its  Author, 
from  the  defects  of  those  who  profess  to  be  influ- 
enced by  it,  as  if  water  from  a  polluted  stream  suited 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  201 

their  taste  better  than  that  of  a  pure  fountain,  as  if 
they  could  discern  the  character  ot  a  distant  object 
better  in  twilight  than  in  the  blaze  of  noon,  or  their 
reason  directed  them  into  swamps  and  marshes  to 
determine  the  true  and  healthful  properties  of  springs 
that  issue  in  perpetual  clearness,  sweetness,  and 
abundance  from  the  heights  around  them?  Whence 
this  very  ominous  propensity,  if  they  would  not 
weigh  themselves  in  *  unjust  balances,'  if  there  be 
not  too  much  brightness  in  the  sun  for  their  unprac- 
tised eyes,  if  they  '  love  not  darkness  rather  than 
light,  because  their  deeds  are  evil'  ? 

It  is  plain  from  these  and  similar  examples  that  men 
are  liable  to  the  greatest  delusion  in  their  estimate  of 
their  own  qualities,  and  that  the  same  causes  operate 
to  delude  them  in  their  judgment  of  others.  It  is  also 
plain  that  the  chief  cause  of  this  delusion,  in  what 
measure  so  ever  it  exists,  is  sin.  It  renders  us  very 
incompetent  judges  of  the  excellence  of  any  being 
with  whom  it  is  our  interest  to  be  found  in  likeness, 
and  this  incompetence  will  be  greater  or  smaller  as 
wre   are   more   or   less   depraved.1     This   principle 

1  "  It  is  the  soul's  prerogative,  its  fate 

To  change  all  outward  things  to  its  own  state  : 
If  right  itself,  then  all  without  is  well ; 
If  wrong,  it  makes  of  all  around  a  hell. 
So  multiplies  the  soul  its  joy  or  pain, 
Gives  out  itself,  itself  takes  back  again." 


202  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

granted,  let  it  once  be  clearly  seen  that  our  moral 
character  spreads  itself  through  our  perceptions,  and 
•controls  our  judgment  of  the  character  of  others,  and 
it  will  result  that  we  may  be  infidels,  as  to  the  real 
truth  and  character  of  God,  when  we  think  ourselves 
very  fair  believers.  Very  fair  believers  then  we 
may  be,  yet  believing  nothing  as  it  is,  nothing  as 
adapted  to  awaken  the  conscience  and  improve  the 
heart,  but  much  that  is  contrary  to  all  good  effect. 
We  suppose  this  to  be  the  state  of  secular  men  gene- 
rally. We  think  it  the  origin  of  their  indifference 
to  religion;  of  their  worldliness  in  a  world  that  lies 
so  near  eternity,  and  has  so  much  of  its  influence 
expended  in  it;  of  their  wretched  misconception  of, 
and  hostility  to,  doctrines  which  cross  their  nature, 
and  presuppose  in  them  a  repugnance  to  what  is 
good.  Theirs  is,  therefore,  a  sinfulness  with  which 
they  are  not  acquainted,  and  which  they  cannot  cre- 
dit until  a  revolution  takes  place,  both  in  themselves 
and  in  their  oldest  and  fondest  associations  and 
hopes.  As  unsuspected,  and  as  operating  in  this 
manner,  it  is  the  basis  of  popular  infidelity.  And 
so  considering  it,  we  shall  have,  perhaps,  a  better 
understanding  of  our  difficulty,  and  of  our  remedy. 
This  view,  certainly,  accords  with  our  experience 
and  observation.  Human  depravity,  modified  and 
restrained  as  it  may  be,  drives  directly  to  this  result. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  203 

So  long  as  we  are  without  proper  views  of  sin  in 
ourselves,  we  see  not  but  this  must  be  the  case.  We 
may  change  in  outward  actions;  we  may  have  legal 
convictions;  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  may  make  us 
afraid;  but  till  the  Spirit  lays  the  rule  of  truth  to  our 
actions,  and  '  takes  of  the  things  of  Jesus  Christ'  and 
shows  them  to  us, — till  the  commandment  revives 
and  we  die, — we  shall  know  nothing  as  we  ought 
to  know;  we  shall  not  know  our  weakness  and  de- 
pendence; we  shall  not  see  what  an  '  evil  and  bit- 
ter thing'  sin  is;  we  shall  discover  nothing  faulty  in 
our  vain  attempts  to  wash  it  away.  We  may  have 
fears  from  its  guilt,  but  we  shall  have  no  shame  from 
its  defilement.  All  our  thoughts  about  it  will  be 
thoughts  of  unbelief — motions  for  a  compromise  with 
the  truth.  We  see  not  how  any  view  of  sin,  or  of 
our  condition,  that  does  not  humble  us,  cause  us  to 
take  side  with  God  against  ourselves,  and  bring  us 
all-nothing-worth  and  thankful  to  Christ,  can  of 
itself  be  entitled  to  a  better  name  than  infidelity.  It 
cannot  comprehend  the  truth;  it  procures  a  peace 
which  is  contrary  to  it,  and  obstructs  its  access  to 
the  mind.  What  more  can  infidelity  do?  It  would 
not  leave  us  to  think  we  are  believers.  But  what 
advantage  is  it  to  think  so,  if  we  believe  not  the 
truth,  and  have  only  a  creed  of  errors?  It  may  pre- 
vent our  seeing  that  we  hang  in  air,  but  can  yield  us 


204  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

no  support.  la  either  case,  it  is  a  want  of  correct 
views  of  truth  that  does  tae  mischief.  We  see  no- 
thing but  this  to  hinder  our  embracing  the  truth  in 
the  love  of  it,  as  a  man  will  betimes  and  thankfully 
fly  for  safety,  when  he  sees  his  danger.  The  more 
general  impression  with  us  is,  that  we  see  things 
straight  and  right  enough,  but  a  want  of  will  or 
power  keeps  us  back.  But  we  do  not  take  this  to 
be  a  true  statement  of  our  case.  We  see  nothing 
right  and  fully,  and  a  want  of  such  seeing  keeps  us 
where  we  are;  that  is,  we  do  not  take  God  at  his 
word;  we  let  our  nature  interpret  things  for  us;  we 
cook  and  season  them  to  our  relish,  and  then  think, 
if  the  effect  is  not  adequate,  the  fault  is  not  in  us, — 
not  at  least  in  our  want  of  accuracy.  Did  we  see 
the  whole  truth,  see  sin  as  a  most  abominable  thing, 
hated  of  God,  and  hateful  in  itself,  see  ourselves, 
Med  by  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts/  weak,  erring, 
knowing  little,  and  not  able  to  know  much,  we 
should  see  wisdom  in  what  we  now  call  <  the  foolish- 
ness of  God;'  we  should  abhor  ourselves,  and  repent 
in  dust  and  ashes;  things,  which  we  had  only  heard 
of  and  thought  about  before,  we  should  see  and 
know,  and  we  should,  without  thought  of  any  in- 
vention, gladly  repair  to  the  '  fountain  set  open  for 
sin  and  uncleanness.'1  Nothing  can  be  truer  than 
1  Compare  this  with  what  Job  says,  chap.  xlii.  3—7. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  205 

the  deficiency  of  the  sinner's  views  of  truth,  espe- 
cially the  deficiency  of  his  views  of  the  nature  of 
sin,  and  of  his  own  sinfulness;  and  as  this  is  a  suffi- 
cient, a  rational  explanation  of  his  indifference,  we 
need  look  no  farther.  It  would  be  well  to  stop  on 
this  in  the  full  conviction  that  we  are  deluded;  that 
we  do  not  see  things  as  they  are,  do  not  know  our- 
selves, and  can  do  nothing  as  of  ourselves.  This 
would  be  so  far  a  right  understanding,  and  might 
lead  on  to  right  action:  but  no — we  will  not  receive 
truths  so  deeply  wounding  and  offensive  to  our 
humour.  We  are  not i  undone'  yet;  we  do  not  be- 
lieve God  when  he  says,  i  Thou  hast  destroyed  thy- 
self, but  in  me  is  thy  help.' x  0  no — this  is  not  our 
condition.  We  can  help  ourselves  yet,  can  improve 
a  little,  can  do  i  works  without  the  grace  of  Christ,' 
which  will  make  us  more  worthy  of  the  favour  of 
God.  We  have  not  truth  enough  in  the  mind  to 
bring  us  to  Christ,  but  just  enough  to  make  that  dis- 
agreeable to  us,  and  to  put  us  upon  a  task-religion,  a 
faithless  service,  (faithless  as  to  God's  word,)  whereby 
we  stifle  our  apprehensions  of  guilt  and  danger.  All 
these  are  attempts  to  patch  up  a  righteousness  of  our 
own,  and  indicate,  not  faith  in  the  gospel,  but  a  de- 
sire to  i  climb  up  some  other  way,'  to  bring  a  '  price 
for  life;'  to  evade  the  punishment,  without  abandon- 

«  Hos.  xiii.  9 
IS 


206  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

ing  the  practice  of  sin.  They  all  suppose  the  belief 
of  some  native  goodness  in  us,  and  a  disposition  to 
make  the  best  of  our  state  before  God.  They  show, 
therefore,  the  grossest  misconception  of  essential  truth, 
a  virtual  disbelief  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gos- 
pel. Those  truths,  which  should  inspire  hope  and  con- 
fidence in  the  breast  of  an  awakened  sinner,  are  blank 
and  void.  The  whole  system  is  without  form;  as 
a  '  root  out  of  dry  ground,'  having  no  uses  that  we 
should  desire  it.  We  have  views  which  dispose  us  to 
dispense  with  the  atonement  of  Christ;  but  this  surely 
appears  to  be  a  cheering  and  indispensable  truth, 
if  we  see  our  deserts  aright, — yet  a  very  humiliating 
and  offensive  one,  if  we  see  them  not.  Hence  the 
prevalent  disposition  to  lower  the  standard  of  holi- 
ness to  what  we  conceive  to  be  within  the  reach  of 
our  own  powers.  Hence  the  holiest  men  have  the 
deepest  sense  of  their  indebtedness  to  Christ,  and  the 
most  affecting  apprehensions  of  personal  un worthi- 
ness and  defilement;  and  this  brings  us  again  to  the 
principle  we  have  had  in  view;  for  whence  have  the 
holiest  men  the  most  vivid  perceptions  of  the  nature 
of  sin,  and  of  their  own  ill-desert,  if  it  be  not  true 
that  our  perception  of  moral  qualities,  whether  good 
or  evil,  is  modified  by  our  own  character? 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  207 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Singularities  in  human  conduct — Importance  of  knowing  ourselves — 
Proneness  to  possess  God  with  our  own  likeness — Causes  uf  delu- 
sion in  our  judgment  of  him — Application  of  the  subject  to  the 
reader — Reasons  for  distrusting  his  own  opinions  shown  by  various 
analogies — Continued  argument  with  him — Separate  responsi- 
bility of  the  head  and  heart — Peculiar  evidence  of  divine  truth — 
Difficulties  in  the  way  of  believing — When  they  are  insuperable — 
How  overcome — Misconceptions  of  the  gospel — Necessity  of  divine 
grace — Questions  and  troubles  about  human  ability  considered — 
Office  and  sacrifice  of  Christ  how  estimated — Characteristics  of 
the  times — Needful  despair — Proofs  of  infidelity. 

Most  of  us  are  aware  of  the  frauds  and  deceptions 
which  run  through  all  ranks  of  men,  and  endanger 
our  peace  and  security  in  a  thousand  ways;  and  it  is 
singular  so  few  of  us  should  ever  be  upon  our  guard, 
or  see  that  more  fatal  hypocrisy  by  which  we  de- 
ceive and  overreach  our  own  hearts.  It  is  indeed 
very  singular  we  can  be  so  readily  convinced  of  the 
self-delusions  of  others,  and  yet  never  be  suspicious 
and  wary  of  ourselves  ;  so  sharply  observant  of 
things  around  us,  and  yet  never  retire  within  our- 
selves to  notice  what  is  passing  there.  It  is  a  flat- 
tering and  beguiling  distemper  which  we  have,  and, 
if  we  will  not  undertake  the  task  of  its  examination 


208  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

with  a  curious  and  impartial  eye,  how  knowing  so- 
ever we  are  in  other  respects,  we  shall  be  ignorant 
in  this,  the  most  important  of  all;  we  shall  be  unap- 
prized  of  a  thousand  mistakes;  our  self-deceits  will 
carry  us  from  ourselves,  and  bring  us  in  such  reports 
on  what  we  do  as  suit  our  inclinations. 

The  conduct  and  experience  of  men,  as  we  have 
seen,  furnish  strong  analogies  in  support  of  the  posi- 
tion, that  there  is  a  general  tendency  in  our  nature 
to  ascribe  our  own  views  of  sin  and  of  ourselves,  to 
God;  to  possess  him,  so  to  speak,  with  our  own  cha- 
racter. This  tendency  admitted,  we  see  at  once  the 
great  importance  of  being  acquainted  with  ourselves, 
and  with  the  various  deceits  to  which  we  are  liable. 
Without  such  acquaintance,  we  can  have  no  ground 
for  trust  in  our  views  of  the  character  of  God, 
or  of  our  standing  in  his  sight.  Nay,  so  apt  is 
our  depraved  nature  to  fondle  and  cherish  its  own 
creations,  that  the  great  danger  is,  our  self-deception 
will  be  more  complete  and  inveterate  on  this  subject 
than  on  any  other,  and  we  become  chiefly  wedded 
to  the  worship  of  that  object,  which  bears  the 
greatest  likeness  to  ourselves,  as  thereby  we  fall  in 
smoothly  with  our  own  propensity,  and  come  un- 
awares to  honour  ourselves  most,  yea,  to  receive  the 
worship  which  is  offered  as  to  another.  We  cannot 
be  too  apprehensive  of  this  danger,  or  too  highly 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  209 

prize  a  knowledge  of  the  causes  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeds. 

The  conclusion,  to  which  our  past  reasoning  has 
tended,  may  seem  to  have  little  to  do  with  us,  if  we 
think  we  have  little  to  fear  from  the  impositions  of 
an  evil  heart.  It  should  therefore  have  a  more  par- 
ticular consideration,  that  we  may  not  fail  of  being 
duly  impressed  by  it,  or  evade  its  application  to  our- 
selves, through  the  same  deceits  by  which  so  great  a 
cheat  is  first  effected.  We  are,  certainly,  in  no  case 
so  liable  to  this  deception,  as  when  judging  of  the 
character  of  God.  If  we  can  divest  him  of  every 
aspect  of  terror  and  evil  to  us,  we  shall  have  gained 
the  point  of  nature;  we  shall  rise  in  self-estimation 
as  we  depreciate  in  excellence,  and  so  prove  '  there 
is  a  way  that  seemeth  right  unto  a  man,  when  the 
end  thereof  is  death.'  Who  will  hold  his  eye  to  the 
light  which  '  makes  manifest  the  hidden  counsels' 
and  miseries  of  the  heart?  Who  will  seek  to  be 
familiar  with  moral  perfections  which  require  him 
to  forsake  '  all  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,'  which 
will  not  bend  to  accommodate  any  selfish  passion, 
and  which  pass  as  in  streams  of  lightning  along  the 
path  of  his  being,  and  through  the  recollections  of 
his  soul,  giving  image  to  the  dangers  which  beset 
him  who  does  not  conform,  and  move  in  har- 
mony with  them?  0,  who  can  trust  his  ability  to 
18* 


210  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

think  worthily  and  impartially,  of  the  perfections 
of  Him  '  whose  eye' 

•  Views  all  things  at  one  view,' 

when,  as  a  sinner  unreconciled,  his  passions,  fears, 
interests  and  hopes,  with  ceaseless  cry,  are  impor- 
tuning and  bribing  him  for  a  decision  in  their  favour? 
Will  you,  reader,  refuse  to  allow  the  testimony  of  a 
supposed  criminal,  to  his  own  innocence,  when  the 
interest  he  has  to  escape  conviction  is  involved  in 
the  punishment  of  a  day,  and  yet  confide  in  the  tes- 
timony of  your  deceitful  heart,  to  the  nature  of  the 
moral  attributes  of  God,  when  you  are  induced  to 
level  them  to  your  own  nature,  or  to  elevate  your 
nature  to  them,  by  all  the  interest  you  feel,  to  con- 
tinue your  sinful  indulgences  and  spare  your  fond 
desires,  without  parting  with  the  hope  of  his  favour 
at  last?  Will  you  refuse  in  a  court  of  law  to  admit 
the  testimony  of  certain  individuals  on  account  of 
the  partialities  that  grow  out  of  the  intimate  con- 
nexions of  life;  or  will  you  refuse  to  commit  your 
your  cause  to  be  tried  by  jurymen,  who  are  suspected 
of  prejudice  against  your  interest,  and  yet  pretend 
that  you  can  be  trusted  to  judge  worthily  of  the  per- 
fections of  God,  with  whom  you  are  connected  as 
a  dependent  and  accountable  sinner,  and  between 
whose  service  and  your  inclinations  there  is  a  hos- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  Sll 

tility,  which  commenced  with  your  moral  being,  and 
has  strengthened  with  your  years?  We  need  not 
say  that  neither  your  philosophy,  nor  practice  in 
other  respects,  justifies  this  vain  presumption.  But 
if  you  do  not  so  judge,  the  question  is,  why  are  you  so 
indifferent  to  spiritual  things?  It  is  clear  you  would 
have  alarms  for  your  welfare,  if  you  had  just  con- 
ceptions of  God, — for  all  his  requirements  and  pur- 
poses are  not  only  consistent  with  his  character,  but 
emanations  and  proofs  of  its  perfection.  Should  you 
see  a  criminal,  under  sentence  of  death,  to  whom 
conditions  of  pardon  had  been  proposed,  gazing 
coolly  on  the  preparations  making  for  his  execution, 
you  would  conclude  he  either  did  not  perceive  his 
danger,  or  else  had  determined  to  die.  But  as  a 
sinner,  it  may  be,  you  are  ready  to  own  you  do  not 
see  your  danger,  and  cannot  confide  in  the  justness 
of  your  notions  of  God,  and  still  have  not  deter- 
mined to  die  in  your  sins.  You  must  then  trust  in 
something.  What  is  it  ?  '  Show  me  thy  faith  by 
thy  works.'  If  faith  have  works  and  you  show  them 
not,  but  show  contrary  works,  are  they  not  the 
works  of  infidelity?  To  say  nothing  of  dissolute- 
ness, profaneness,  or  viciousness  of  any  kind,  where 
pride,  covetousness,  discontent,  uncharitableness, 
impatience,  pusillanimity,  and  'such  like,'  abound, 
can  faith  be  there  ?     Can  a  man  believe  there  is  a 


212  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

God,  and  still  affront  him  with  a  cherished  preference 
of  the  world?     Can  he  believe  there  is  a  judgment 
to  come,  a  heaven,  a  hell,  and  yet  so  little  regard  his 
life,  slight  infinite  blessedness,  and  rush  on  infinite 
wo?     We  may  well  suspect  there  is  no  such  faith. 
We  rather  think  he  is  making  his  escape  through  the 
ways  of  his  own  invention.     You  see  not  your  dan- 
ger, or  seeing  it,  are  not  alarmed.     Is  there  not  some 
self-deception  in  your  case?     There   is,  certainly, 
ground  for  industrious  inquiry  into  the  nature  of 
your  indifference  to  the  peril  of  your  condition. 
You  are  under  sentence  of  death.     Conditions  of 
pardon  are  proposed  to  you.     You  do  not  accept 
them.     The  time  of  execution  is  at  hand.     You  are 
approaching  the  fatal  crisis,  and  still  your  attention 
is  occupied  with  the  pleasures  of  the  way.     You  do 
not  expect  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  the  law,  and  why 
are  you  indifferent  to  the  peril  of  outliving  in  guilt 
'the  day  of  salvation?'     Clearly,  you  see  not  your 
guilt — you  value  not  the   pardon    offered  to   you. 
And  what  is  this  but  infidelity?     What  is  it  but  to 
doubt  the  word  of  God,  to  reject  his  Son,  <  to  make 
him  a  liar,'  and  to  suppose  he  would  terrify  you  with 
intimations  of  evil,  to  which  you  are  not  exposed  by 
the  principles  of  your  character?     It  is  in  effect  to 
doubt  his  opposition  to  the  reign  of  sin  and  Satan, 
and  to  make  him,  not  <  altogether  such  a  one  as  thy- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  213 

self,'  but  a  great  deal  worse  than  you  allow  yourself 
to  be.  Your  account  of  the  matter  may  be  this  and 
another;  your  quiet  of  conscience  may  come  in  this 
and  another  way,  but  all  may  be  reduced  to  infidelity 
at  last.  Not  to  perceive  things  God  has  revealed,  is 
to  doubt  them.  Lose  your  right  and  effective  per- 
ceptions of  them  as  you  will,  traces  of  unbelief  may 
be  found  in  all  the  turns  and  windings  of  the  pro- 
cess. There  is  not  a  sin  you  commit  but  has  a 
strong  spice  of  it,  and  your  indifference,  your 
worldliness,  your  distaste  to  spiritual  things,  is  but 
its  ripened  fruit. 

Will  you  shun  this  conclusion  by  saying  you  per- 
ceive the  peril  of  your  condition,  and  are  yet  able  to 
rest  because  you  regard  it  to  be  distant?  To  say 
this,  is  to  confess  you  discover  no  reasonableness  or 
propriety  in  the  divine  law  to  constrain  you  to  obey 
it,  no  loveliness  or  beauty  in  holiness  that  you  should 
now  desire  it,  no  deformity  or  turpitude  in  sin  that 
you  should  now  avoid  and  hate  it.  It  is  doubting 
God's  anger  against  evil  doers,  and  presuming  on 
his  forbearance  and  your  security,  against  the  decla- 
rations of  his  word  and  the  course  of  his  providence. 
It  is  preferring  other  things  to  his  favour  for  the 
present,  and  presenting  a  reason  for  future  amend- 
ment— escape  from  threatened  evil — which  infers  in 
you  no  sense  of  obligation  to  amend,  and  no  con- 


214  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

sideration  for  his  will.  It  is  discarding  as  delusive 
or  false  all  his  promises  of  good,  (not  trusting  in 
them  at  all,  not  at  all  prizing  the  blessing  they  en- 
gage,) and  only  fearing  evil  as  our  nature  but  too 
well  suspects  it,  rather  than  fearing  it  as  revealed. 
This  is  the  amount  of  your  defence;  and  it  leads  us 
to  the  same  conclusion  from  which  it  was  designed 
to  afford  an  escape,  namely,  that  your  indifference 
to  the  peril  of  )^our  condition  arises  from  the  infi- 
delity involved  in  the  belief  that  God  regards  things 
as  you  do;  that  he  is  ' altogether  such  a  one  as  you 
are.'  It  is  a  most  specious  deception,  that  which 
enables  you  to  disbelieve  all  you  will,  under  the 
pretence  of  faith  and  the  colour  of  believing  all  you 
should.  As  in  the  Romish  doctrine  the  sacramental 
bread  is  made  God,  and  souls  are  thus  deluded,  so 
your  depravity,  running  through  and  debasing  your 
thoughts  of  God,  amounts  to  the  possessing  of  him 
with  yourselves — a  making  of  him  such  a  divinity  as 
may  prove  destructive  to  your  soul — an  entering  and 
concealing  of  your  sins  in  him,  so  that,  you  come  not 
to  know  your  difference  from  him,  or  to  fear  his  dis- 
pleasure with  you.  Such  appears  to  be  the  ground  of 
your  security,  all  smoothed  and  chalked  by  that  airy 
casuist  of  our  bosoms,  who  looks  into  the  clear  sun 
at  noon,  and  all  is  darkness;  who  casts  on  all  objects 
his  own  shadow,  and  therefore  claims  them  for  his 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  215 

kindred, — changes  all  colours  into  one,  and  boasts 
that  one  to  be  his  own. 

That  the  matter  presents  itself  to  your  mind  in 
this  form  and  character,  is  not  at  all  likely.  You 
may  or  not  have  some  definable  ground  of  religious 
trust — your  faith  may  take  in  the  nominal  doctrines 
of  Christianity;  but  the  secret  of  its  inefficiency, 
where  does  that  lie?  Not  in  the  nature  of  the  things 
to  be  believed;  and  none  pretend  they  have  any 
power  in  their  name.  It  is  not  the  name  of  a  Chris- 
tian, but  Christ  that  is  in  you,  that  gives  you  life 
and  power  with  God.  Whether  you  are  trusting  in 
your  own  righteousness,  in  the  accuracy  of  your 
creed,  in  the  exuberant  mercy  of  God,  or  what  com- 
mands soever  you  have  kept — if  the  great  command- 
ment of  love  is  neglected — none  of  these  make  you 
an  c  Israelite  indeed ;'  no  more  than  a  veil  makes  a 
saint,  a  cowl  a  monk,  or  a  laboratory  a  chymist. 
An  infidel  may  do  all  these;  but  'with  the  heart 
man  believeth  unto  righteousness,'1  that  is,  unto  jus- 
tification before  God.  That  you  have  not  so  be- 
lieved, your  acknowledged  indifference  shows.  It 
is  called  believing  e  with  the  heart,'  because  it  takes 
effect  in  the  mind,  only  when  the  heart  cordially 
approves  of  the  object;  and  it  is  only  when  we  mis- 
take and  misconceive  spiritual  objects,  that  they  are 
1  Rom,  x.  10, 


216  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

not  lovely  and  engaging.     Our  hearts  and  minds  are 
not  such  separate  things  in  the  business  of  religion, 
as  our  notions  of  their   localities   would   indicate. 
They  are  not  such  separate  agents  in  the  responsi- 
bility of  believing,  as  we  sometimes  take  them  to  be. 
That  we  do  not  feel  suitably  towards  the  objects  of 
faith,  we  venture,  arises  from  our  want  of  suitable 
views  of  them.     That  wrong  feelings,  preoccupied 
hearts,  occasion  this  defect,  may  be,  but  the  mind 
has  taken  the  lead  in  this  derangement  and  assents 
thereto.     True  faith,  after  all,  seema  little   more, 
nothing  more  that  we  can  see,  than  a  believing  of 
things  rightly  perceived.     Pure  hearts  are  apt  to 
believe  very  strongly,  because  to  the  pure  the  objects 
of  faith  are  pure.     The  heart — poor  and  empty — 
we  fear  is  charged  wrongfully,  when  we  call  it  that 
dead  thing  which  will  not  respond  to  our  percep- 
tions, blame  it  for  all  the  ill  we  do,  and  let  the  mind 
go  clear.     When  we  have  seen  the  promptness  with 
which  some  men  acknowledge  the  faults  of  their 
hearts,  taxing  them  often   with  unsparing  severity 
at  the  same  time  they  resent  the  slightest  reflection 
upon   their  mind,  the  great  seat  of  intentions  and 
executive  of  desires,  we  have  been  suspicious  this 
might  be  one  of  our  nature's  dangers,  one  of  the 
covert  ways  in  which  we  seem  to  loose  ourselves 
from  responsibility,  ami  are  betrayed  into  a  notion 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  217 

that  we  are  rather  unfortunate  than  guilty  in  most 
of  the  wrong  we  do.  It  is,  certainly,  well  to  have 
it  settled  in  the  mind,  that  the  heart  follows  the  lead 
of  ourselves,  and  that  all  the  blame  we  charge  on  it 
is  ours.  If  we  will  think  much  of  our  minds,  it 
should  be,  because  they  control  the  heart  through  the 
ministry  of  right  perceptions  of  those  objects  which 
are  adapted  to  move  its  affections  along  the  course 
of  right  reason  and  faith. 

There  is  a  peculiar  evidence  of  divine  truth  which 
you  never  see — see  what  else  you  will — if  you 
judge  of  it  merely  by  the  intellect,  much  less,  if  the 
intellect  be  swayed  by  adverse  affections.  But 
when  the  repugnance  of  the  heart  is  overcome,  we 
have  this  evidence  in  the  substance,  the  relish  of  the 
truth;  we  then  see  a  conspicuous  excellency  in  it, 
which  approves  it  to  the  mind,  and  confirms  it  by 
a  happy  experience  of  its  power  and  sweetness. 
There  is  nothing  at  all  supernatural  in  this,  nothing 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  general  experience.  We 
may  hear  much  of  the  excellent  qualities  of  an  indi- 
vidual, but  there  is  a  certain  evidence  which  they 
seem  not  to  have,  though  they  be  such  qualities  as- 
we  approve  and  fully  believe  to  exist,  till  we  have, 
so  to  speak,  some  experience  of  them  which  moves 
on  our  affections,  They  have  a  brightness,  a  loveli- 
ness then,  which  engages  all  our  confidence,  and' 
19 


218  POPULAR    INFIDELITF. 

makes  us  feel,  whether  the  subject  of  them  be  pre- 
sent or  absent,  that  we  know  in  whom  we  believed. 
So  then,  there  is  as  much  true  philosophy  as 
divinity  in  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  when  he  said, 
'  How  can  they  believe  who  seek  honour  one  from 
another,  and  not  that  honour  which  cometh  from 
God?  How  hardly  shall  a  rich  man  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.'  They  have  their  affections  pre- 
engaged;  they  do  not  '  seek  first  the  kingdom  of 
God;'  and  all  the  glories  of  it  compare  not  in  their 
estimation  with  the  objects  they  have  chosen.  They 
cannot  therefore  perceive  aright  the  things  to  be 
believed,  nor  can  the  heart  be  moved  towards  them, 
till  it  breaks  its  present  hold.  This  will  give  you 
an  insight  into  the  condition  of  secular  men  gene- 
rally. They  may  not  be  seeking  honour  or  riches, 
but  seek  what  they  may,  and  something  they  are  all 
seeking  before  the  '  kingdom  of  God,'  it  will  ex- 
clude for  the  time  the  possibility  of  faith.  The 
Bible  does  not,  reason  does  not,  tolerate  the  prefer- 
ence of  any  object  to  God.  Take  away  this  obsta- 
cle, disengage  the  heart,  and  how  hardly  shall  they 
not  believe,  when  they  are  thus  left  to  see  without 
bias  the  excellency  and  obligation  of  spiritual  things? 
In  proportion  to  the  strength  of  men's  worldly 
attachments — their  fondness  and  persistence  in  for- 
bidden ways — is  the   difficulty  they  experience  m 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  219 

believing.  No  conviction  of  spiritual  things  can  be 
gained,  which  will  make  any  due  impression,  whilst 
the  heart  is  held  in  a  preference  of  other  things. 
Hence,  if  it  be  necessary  we  should  undergo  an  entire 
change,  we  see  that  the  requirement  of  supreme  love 
to  God,  a  love  preferring  him  before  all  other  things, 
is  founded  in  the  necessities  of  our  nature;  it  is  in- 
dispensable as  a  cause  of  the  effect  to  be  produced. 
Without  it,  we  cannot  believe,  cannot  rate  the  value 
of  things  as  they  are,  and  must  consequently  lose 
that  influence  from  them,  which  is  essential  to  our 
renovation,  our  realizing  faith. 

When  our  Saviour,  discoursing  on  this  subject,1 
said,  '  How  hard  is  it  for  them  that  trust  in  riches  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God!'  it  was  a  natural  and 
reasonable  inquiry  of  the  disciples,  as  he  strength- 
ened the  assertion — <  Who  then  can  be  saved?'  He 
had  used  a  comparison  which  made  it  appear  quite 
impossible  that  any  should;  but  had  they  considered 
what  it  is  to  *  trust  in  riches,'  that  is,  to  prefer  and 
rest  in  any  created  good,  they  would  have  been  con- 
vinced that  none  so  doing  could  believe,  could  be 
saved.  Few  persons  of  this  description  have  as  much 
consideration  for  religion,  as  he  who  '  came  running,' 
and  saying, (  Good  Master,  what  shall  I  do  that  I  may 
inherit  eternal  life?'  He  had  done  much  in  his  own 
'  Mirk  x.  23—28. 


220  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

way;  he  had  observed  the  commandments  from  his 
youth;  yet,  when  required  to  give  up  that  on  which 
his  heart  relied  most,  he  was  net  ready,  '  and  went 
away  grieved.' 

When  it  is  considered  how  many  things  we  may 
do,  and  what  surrenders  we  may  make  for  the  favour 
of  God,  and  yet  be  unable  to  bear  a  touch  in  the 
tenderest  spot  of  interest,  or  to  deny  a  favourite 
indulgence,  it  is  a  comfortable  and  encouraging 
doctrine,  that  which  our  Lord  taught  his  disciples 
in  answer  to  their  question— i  With  men  it  is  im- 
possible, but  not  with  God:  for  with  God  all  things 
are  possible.'  They,  who  quarrel  with  this  doctrine, 
may  be  suspected  of  hoping  more  from  themselves 
than  from  the  grace  of  God;  but  they  are  not  the 
readiest  to  abandon  their  reliances;  to  i  forsake  all, 
and  follow  Christ.'  And  if  you  turn  your  thoughts 
back  to  the  deceptions  which  have  been  traced  out, 
to  the  false  reliances,  lurking  places,  and  fair  forms 
of  unbelief,  and  mark  the  deep  aversion  to  spiritual 
things  which  runs  through  them  all,  and  then  weigh 
impartially  what  you  have  done  and  are  ready  to 
do,  and  infer  thence  what  you  will  be  likely  to  do, 
Ho  inherit  eternal  life,'  we  submit,  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult for  you  to  grouna  my  confidence  in  yourself. 
Still,  we  misjudge  if  there  is  not  much  practical 
misconception  and  error  on  this  point,  among  those 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  221 

who  profess  to  receive  the  truth,  and  to  be  fully  per- 
suaded of  their  dependence.  Their  faith,  however 
correct  it  may  stand  to  the  mind,  does  not  bring 
them  in  practice  to  despair  of  other  relief,  and  to 
surrender  themselves  into  the  hands  of  God.  It 
does  not  make  them  importunate  at  a  throne  of 
grace,  or  distrustful  and  apprehensive  of  their 
strength  against  sin.  When  they  are  induced  to  do 
any  thing  for  the  soul,  they  generally  proceed  in  a 
way  that  seems  not  to  recognise  the  doctrine  of 
their  dependence.  Instead  of  coming  to  Christ  as 
helpless,  self-destroyed,  hoping  in  mercy,  and  claim- 
ing nothing,  they  are  ready  to  do  almost  any  thing 
before  this  the  one  thing  needful.1  They  check 
themselves  in  sin,  pray,  read,  and  '  do  many  things,' 

1  Whatever  causes  the  undervaluation  of  Christ  and  his  offices,  is 
of  the  essence  of  infidelity.  We  can  no  more  do  without  him  in 
religion,  than  we  can  trade  in  the  world  without  money  or  credit. 
This  point  cannot  be  too  much  considered.  It  is  our  natural  infi- 
delity, so  to  call  it,  its  easiest,  earliest  manifestation,  that  which  we 
style  our  proneness  to  overlook  it  in  our  religious  thoughts  and 
hopes.  "  But  if  you  think  to  overcome  this  death,  this  sense  of  sin, 
by  diversions,  by  worldly  delights,  by  mirth,  and  music,  and  society  ; 
or  by  good  works,  with  a  confidence  of  merit  in  them ;  or  with  a  re- 
lation to  God  himself,  but  not  as  God  hath  manifested  himself  to 
you,  not  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  the  stone"  (your  sin)  "  shall  lie  still  upon 
you  till  you  putrefy  into  desperation.  To  be  a  good  moral  man,  and 
refer  all  to  the  law  of  nature  in  our  hearts,  is  but  diluculum,  '  the 
dawning  of  the  day ;'  to  be  a  godly  man,  and  refer  to  God,  is  but 
crepusculum,  '  a  twilight ;'  but  the  meridional  brightness,  the  glo 
rious  noon  and  height,  is  to  be  a  Christian  ;  to  pretend  to  no  spirit 
19* 


222  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

with  a  view  to  prepare  themselves  for  divine  accept- 
ance, (<  and  these  ought  they  to  have  done,  and  not 
to  have  left  the  other  undone;')  and  it  is  a  great 
mercy  if  God  leads  them,  through  these  winding  and 
perplexing  ways  of  their  choice,  to  find  the  truth  at 
last;  to  come  empty-handed  to  Christ,  willing  to  be 
saved  on  his  terms,  and  able  to  trust  in  his  suffi- 
ciency, who  is  All  in  all. 

That  they  discredit  the  gospel,  or  misconceive  its 
plainest  5import,  is  abundantly  clear  from  their  prone- 
ness  to  rest  in  the  merit  of  their  own  works;  and 
they  hear  so  much  of  their  ability,  and  are  often  so 
stoutly  and  broadly  assured  of  it,  that  it  is  perhaps 
not  all  their  fault  that  they  forget  its  true  conditions, 
and  set  themselves  to  the  work  much  as  they  would 
if  no  redemption  were  provided  for  them.  If  they 
would  let  their  own  consciousness,  their  active 
nature,  turn  teacher  on  the  question  of  their  ability, 
they  would  be  more  likely  to  practise  the  true  phi- 
losophy of  religion.  Men  are  seldom  in  despair 
with  regard  to  their  religious  prospects:  it  is  not 
the  want  of  hope  which  makes  them  careless  and 
worldly,  not  a  persuasion  that  religion  itself  is  un- 
important to  them,  but  a  faithless  adventure  on  the 

ual,  no  temporal  blessings,  but  for,  and  by,  and  througb,  and  in  our 
only  Lord  and  Saviour  Christ  Jesus;  for  he  is  the  first  resurrection  ; 
and  'blessed  and  holy  is  he  that  hath  part  in  this  first  resurrection.'  * 
—Dr.  Donne's  Discourse  on  the  First  Resurrection. 


POPULAR   INFIDELITY.  223 

forbearance  of  God,  and  on  their  own  capacity  and 
disposition  to  do  their  duty  at  a  future  time.  We 
pee  not  what  need  they  have  to  know  more  of  theii 
ability,  than  is  taught  them  by  the  praise  or  blame, 
the  right  or  wrong,  which  they  naturally  ascribe  to 
their  own  doings.  They  cannot  divest  themselves 
of  these  prime  ideas  of  truth:  they  are  revelations 
of  God  within  us,  and,  though  their  ?  counsel  be 
often  darkened  by  words  without  knowledge,'  they 
will  come  out  at  last  in  vindication  of  the  divine 
requirements.  It  is  singular  men  should  perplex 
and  hamper  themselves  with  a  question  which  so 
little  concerns  their  practice,  that  they  leave  it  with- 
out conscience  of  it,  whenever  the  thing  to  be  done 
appears  both  practicable  and  desirable.  And  if  their 
duty  to  God  appear  not  both  practicable  and  desirable, 
it  is  a  want  of  faith  and  complacency,  not  in  their 
ability,  but  in  the  testimony  and  nature  of  the  thing 
to  be  done,  which  prevents  its  appearing  so.  They 
are  not  straitened  in  themselves,  or  in  God,  but  in 
their  views  of  the  outward  thing  which  he  requires. 
Christianity  is  a  warfare,  and,  considered  as 
a  practice,  is  called  in  the  Scriptures,  'fighting 
the  good  fight  of  faith.'  It  enjoins  on  us  duties 
which  are  most  difficult  to  nature;  to  think  lowly 
of  ourselves,  to  seek  not  our  own  things,  to  wave 
the   regard    and    praise   of    men,  to    disclaim    our 


224  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

own  worth  and  desert,  to  bear  wrongs  and  affronts, 
without  seeking  or  so  much  as  wishing;  any  revenge, 
and  to  meet  all  crosses  and  disasters  without  dis- 
may or  complaint,  meekly,  gladly  giving  '  patience 
her  perfect  work,  that  we  may  be  perfect  and  entire. ; 
They  have  not  the  courage,  the  decision,  to  adven- 
ture striving  thus  with  themselves,  with  the  '  lusts 
which  war  against  their  souls.'  They  are  irresolute 
and  pusillanimous;  and  to  think  of  stooping  so  low, 
of  running  such  hazards,  and  enduring  such  hard- 
ships; to  think  of  curbing  their  appetites  and  pas- 
sions, of  waving  their  rights  and  interests,  of  cruci- 
fying their  own  members,  pulling  out  right  eyes, 
and  cutting;  off  right  hands — is  a  thins:  that  daunts 
and  puts  them  to  a  stand,  and  quashes  all  resolution 
and  inclination  to  close  with  the  Christian  command. 
There  is  nothing  unusual  in  the  process;  it  is  the  same 
difficulty  as  that  which  they  feel,  when  any  painful, 
hnmblingjor  unpromising  service  is  proposed  to  them. 
They  decline  it  for  the  sole  reason,  that  it  is  painful, 
humbling,  unpromising,  or  in  any  other  sense  dis- 
agreeable; and  it  does  not  alter  the  case,  or  affect 
their  responsibility  in  it,  that  it  is  their  love  of  ease, 
their  pride,  their  incredulity,  or  their  distaste  for 
the  service,  which  makes  it  appear  so.  The  whole 
trouble  seems  to  be,  that  they  '  resist  the  truth, 
being  men  of  corrupt  minds,  and  reprobate  concern- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  225 

ing  the  faith,'1  }  destitute  of  the  truth.'2  And,  while 
the  matter  stands  thus,  while  they  know  they  do 
wrong  continually,  and  do  it  voluntarily,  against 
their  firmest  resolves  and  their  clearest  convictions 
of  duty,  what  if  they  should  begin  to  distrust  them- 
selves and  to  despair  of  amendment  ?  This  is  pre- 
cisely the  feeling  they  ought  to  have  ;  it  is  their 
first  approach  to  an  understanding  of  the  truth,  and, 
instead  of  making  them  more  careless  in  impeni- 
tence, it  would  drive  them  to  seek  relief  from  God, 
to  cast  themselves  upon  his  mercy — the  only  pro- 
per direction  and  exercise  of  human  ability.  When 
saints  are  told  that  (  His  strength  is  made  perfect  in 
their  weakness,'  and  they  find  in  their  experience 
that  '  when  they  are  weak,  then  are  they  strong,'3 
6  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might,'4 
it  is  remarkable  it  should,  sometimes,  be  deemed  so 
important  to  persuade  sinners  of  their  sufficiency  for 
every  duty.  Who  knows  not  they  would  do  more 
if  they  did  not  believe  they  could  do  so  much  ? 
They  must  come  at  last  to  despair  of  helping  them- 
selves. Very  little  good,  that  we  can  see,  has  come 
of  the  lasting  discussion  of  natural  and  moral 
ability ;  unless  indeed  it  has  sharpened  minds  for 
more  available  inquiries.     It  has  not  altered  men's 

1  2  Tim.  iife  8.  2  i  Tim.  vi.  5. 

3  2  Cor.  xii.  9,  10.  <  Eph.  vi.  2  0. 


226  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

primary  and  practical  convictions,  or  added  a  cubit 
to  their  growth  in  holiness,  a  pulse  to  their  con- 
scious life  in  duty.  Help  them  to  see,  adequately, 
their  guilt  and  danger,  and  the  love  and  complete- 
ness of  a  Saviour  for  them,  and  they  will  feel  and 
believe.  This  would  be  treating  them  as  reasonable 
creatures  ;  but  lashing  them  on  their  ability,  when 
what  they  most  need  is  a  persuasion  of  their  guilt, 
their  proper  helplessness,  their  adequate  relief,  is, 
to  say  no  more  of  it,  a  questionable  operation. 

There  is,  in  these  days,  so  much  said  of  what 
saints  and  sinners  can  do,  with  so  little  recognition 
of  what  they  cannot  do,  that  practical  error,  practi- 
cal feeling,  of  the  worst  kind — a  spirit  of  self-reli- 
ance, a  contempt  for  old  opinions,  a  forsaking  of 
beaten  ways,  an  impatience  that  will  not  let  well 
alone,  but  must  deface  and  spoil  it  with  dashes  of 
self-improvement — is  in  danger  of  coming  in,  yea, 
has  come  in,  and  threatens  to  flood  the  land  with 
strife  and  irreverence — those  strong  spices,  which 
scent  not  of  the  grace  and  faith  of  '  olden  time.' 
Men  need  most  to  feel  that  they  are  self-destroyed 
and  that  all  their  springs  are  in  God.  In  all  their 
unaided  efforts  they  are  as  <  one  that  beateth  the 
air/  in  regard  to  all  spiritual  execution.  If  they 
saw  themselves  in  danger,  and  felt  they  could  do 
nothing,  they  would  be  ready  to  cry  for  help,  and 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  227 

to  accept  of  any  aid  that  is  offered  to  them.  They 
would  not  find  it  so  difficult  to  trust  in  the  provi- 
sions and  promises  of  a  wise  and  gracious  God — the 
most  complete  and  reasonable  objects  of  human 
trust  in  the  universe.  They  would  fly  to  him 
(ability  or  no  ability)  as  their  refuge  and  defence. 
This  they  always  do,  when  felt  necessity  shuts  them 
up  to  it,  and,  we  think,  never  otherwise.  They 
will  try  to  help  themselves  without  him,  as  long  as 
they  believe  they  can.  Their  unbelief,  their  nature, 
disposes  them  to  self-dependence,  and  self-depend- 
ence, again,  to  carelessness  and  inaction.  In  short, 
their  heedless,  incurious,  and  unrelenting  spirit  is  a 
fruit  of  inferred  strength,  a  growth  of  infidelity, 
which  indicates  an  oversight,  or  rather  ill  sight  of 
the  great  truths  of  the  gospel.  It  evinces  that  no 
true  light  has  entered  the  heart;  that  the  heart  is 
not  seen  as  a  land  of  darkness,  swarming  with  lies 
and  vain  imaginations,  and  lying  under  the  shadow 
of  death.  Their  goodness  is  like  the  blossom  and  fra- 
grancy  of  certain  plants,  the  growth  of  a  poisonous 
root,  and  soon  to  fade, to  exhale  and  pass  away.  They 
see  at  most  but  a  part  of  the  evil  that  is  in  them,  and 
the  other,  and  the  worst  part  perhaps,  passes  with 
them  for  virtue.  And  if  you  are  of  'the  careless 
ones,'  this  is  your  case.  Your  thoughts  of  sin  and 
its  punishment,  your  thoughts  of  heaven  and  its  holi- 


228  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

ness,  your  thoughts  of  God,  are  not  great  enough  to 
start  you.  There  is  too  much  of  your  own  stature 
and  likeness  in  them.  You  should  value  yourself 
very  little  on  any  ability  to  help  yourself,  or  any 
disposition  to  do  it,  when  the  weightiest  truths  have 
so  long  failed  to  control  your  choice.  It  is  not  so 
important  for  you  to  feel,  that  you  can  do  better 
than  you  have  done,  as  that  you  must  perish  with- 
out help  from  God.  All  your  other  confidences 
have  been  insufficient,  and  will  desert  you  at  last : 
they  spring  from,  and  rest  in  misconceptions  of 
essential  truth.  When,  in  the  promises  and  threat- 
enings  of  the  gospel,  you  hear  the  voice  of  your 
Redeemer  and  Judge,  and  the  silken  cords  of  love 
do  not  draw  you,  nor  the  iron  chains  of  terror  move 
you,  yield  at  least  to  the  conviction,  that  if  you  are 
left  of  God  with  a  heart  so  hardened,  and  left  you 
may  be,  leaving  him,  your  perdition  is  as  certain  as 
if  it  had  already  begun ;  and  so  yielding,  feel  your 
dependence,  and  accept  the  proffered  deliverance, 
acceptable  then,  and  only  accepted  by  humble  and 
contrite  hearts. 

If  your  feelings  will  give  you  leave,  you  will  find 
nothing  to  hinder  your  calling  on  God  in  the  spirit 
of  fervent,  effectual  prayer ;  and  if  they  give  you 
no  leave,  no  insight,  no  liberty,  it  is  because  you  see 
not  yottr  necessities.     Your  hinderances  may  be  re- 


rOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  229 

solved  again  into  infidelity,  not  a  doubting  perhaps 
that  religion  is  important,  but  a  doubting  of  things 
which  might  make  you  feel  it  to  be  so.  It  is  a 
doubting  of  the  grounds  of  your  danger,  which 
extends  to  and  breaks  the  power  of  all  other  truth. 
What  strange  ingredients  enter  into  this  '  spirit  of 
slumber'  that  has  fallen  upon  you!  You  are  fortified 
by  a  charm  that  '  leads  to  bewilder  and  dazzles  to 
blind'  you  in  the  moment  of  ruin;  the  charm  of  the 
same  serpent  who  tried  his  power  on  our  nature  in 
Eden,  and  who  would  lure  you  to  believe  you  are 
like  God,  by  blinding  you  to  what  he  is.  On  any 
other  supposition,  your  insensibility  is  unaccountable. 
No  one  that  is  a  slave  of  sin,  can  remain  eas}^  in  the 
belief  that  God  justly  regards  him  as  he  professes 
to  regard  the  sinner.  He  must  accommodate  his 
notions  of  God  to  his  own  standard  of  excellence; 
he  must  bring  him  down,  or  ascend  to  him  by  some 
process;  he  must  conceal  away  his  guilt  in  God,  or 
he  must  live  in  perpetual  fear  and  dissatisfaction. 
Now,  it  cannot  be  doubted  which  of  these  alterna- 
tives you  have  chosen,  if  you  are  not  concerned  for 
your  acceptance  in  his  sight.  Besides  the  fear  and 
remorse  which  may  lead  you  to  seek  such  relief, 
your  prospect  is  gilded  and  filled  with  objects, 
adapted  to  distract  your  vision  and  induce  you  to 
20 


230  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

level  down  his  perfections  to  your  own  likeness. 
There  you  see  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  in  all 
their  deceitful  glory  and  fascination,  offered  for  your 
service,  and  waiting  for  your  acceptance.  Here  is  a 
company  of  darling  lusts,  passions,  and  expectations, 
which  you  are  commanded  to  slay,  and  spare  not; 
but  they,  clinging  to  your  recollections  of  enjoyment, 
plead  and  claim  to  be  retained  in  your  service  by  all 
you  remember  and  can  anticipate  of  such  enjoyment 
as  they  afforded,  and  this,  too,  at  the  very  moment, 
when  they  crave  new  indulgence,  which  is  always 
the  moment,  when  the  miseries  they  may  hereafter 
bring  upon  you,  are  least  likely  to  be  feared,  because 
those  they  have  previously  caused,  are  then  most 
likely  to  be  out  of  mind — the  moment,  when  the 
pleasures  and  interests  they  can  promote,  are  sure 
to  be  greatly  overrated,  because  you  are  reluctantly 
contemplating  their  entire  renunciation.  Will  you 
venture  on,  and  presume  that  you  are  equal  to  this 
trial?1  Can  you  trust  yourself  to  make  against  such 
odds,  and  to  come  to  a  safe  and  impartial  decision? 
Can  you  cope  with  passions,  which  long  indulgence 
or  the  desire  of  new  indulgence  may  change  as  into 

1 "0,  sir,  to  wilful  men, 

The  injuries,  that  they  themselvcfs  procure, 
Must  be  their  schoolmasters." 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  231 

angels  of  light,1  always  ready  to  give  an  excuse  for 
what  they  have  done,  and  a  reason,  and  to  sense  a 
good  reason,  for  what  they  propose  doing;  never 
baffled,  when  denied,  and  never  convinced  and 
abashed,  when  found  guilty,  but,  as  cunning  sophists, 
(outwitting  whom  they  master,  and  mastering  all 
who  trust  them,)  contriving  new  artifices  for  their 
own  vindication,  and  devising  new  plans  for  the 
compassing  of  their  own  ends? 

Consider,  then,  how  strongly  you  are  tempted  so 
to  modify  your  notions  of  God,  as  to  make  him  permit 
the  indulgence  of  your  evil  passions,  and  the  reten- 
tion of  your  idols,  especially  when  you  are  called  to 
exchange  them  for  objects  that  have  no  power  to 
charm,  and  for  services  you  do  not  relish?  Yea,  is 
not  your  repose  in  impenitence,  evidence  that  your 
conceptions  of  him  are  already  so  modified  as  to 
quiet  your  fears  and  favour  your  passions?  Here  is 
the  law  which  is  a  transcript  of  his  character.  It 
demands  that  you  '  love  not  the  world  nor  the  things 
of  the  world,'  and  that  you  <  cleanse  yourself  from 
all  filthiness  of  the  flesh  and  spirit,  and  perfect  holi- 
ness in  the  fear  of  God.'     Do  you  see  its  beauty  as 

1  "  When  we  in  our  viciousness  grow  hard, 
(0  misery  on't)  the  wise  gods  seel  our  eyes ; 
In  our  own  filth  drop  our  clear  judgments  ;  make  us 
Adore  our  errors  ;  laugh  at  us,  while  we  strut 
To  our  confusion."    ' 


232  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

holy,  just,  and  good  ?  Do  you  see  in  what  sense 
your  happiness  here  and  hereafter,  is  connected  with 
obedience  to  it?  To  say  you  do  not,  is  to  say  that 
you  see  not  the  word  of  God  to  be  true;  that  you 
see  no  filthiness  in  the  indulgence  it  proscribes — no 
beauty  in  the  holiness  it  enjoins.  But  if  you  see  its 
excellence,  and  your  interest  in  obeying  it,  it  is  im- 
possible for  you  to  repose,  while  you  refuse  to  com- 
ply with  its  requisitions.  You  might  as  well  expect 
a  '  proud  Athos'  to  obey  your  mandate,  and  part  with 
its  elevation,  as  expect  reason  to  permit  you  to  slum- 
ber, while  it  has  such  a  vision  of  your  peril,  and  of 
the  worth  of  the  law  it  honours.  It  sees  a  law  to 
which  it  is  bound  by  ties  which  nothing  can  dissolve. 
It  responds  to  its  command,  and  is  awe-struck  with 
the  splendour  and  strength  of  its  chains.  It  looks 
at  the  earth  beneath,  and  the  heavens  above  you,  and 
sees  everywhere  the  features  of  a  religion  that  will 
be  approved,  and  cannot  be  bribed  to  allow  one  sin- 
ful indulgence.  Your  offences,  in  vastness  and  deso- 
lation, like  mountains  that  intercept  your  vision  of 
the  morning  sun,  rise  to  its  view.  It  turns  with 
aversion  and  horror  from  the  prospect,  as  the  eagle, 
in  its  ascension  to  the  skies,  is  frighted  and  driven 
back  by  the  lightning  and  the  tempest.  It  looks  out 
again  upon  the  immensity  that  is  above  and  around 
you,  and  sees  it  all  as  the  stern  expression  of  an 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  23$ 

enemy's  countenance,  whose  eyes  are  in  every  place, 
and  on  whose  power  all  things  depend.  Can  you 
repose  while  reason  has  such  visions,  alarms,  and 
convulsions,  by  which  it  performs  upon  you  a  work 
like  that  of  the  fabled  vulture  upon  the  unwasting 
vitals  of  its  victim?  Did  you  perceive  the  extent  of 
your  peril,  the  reasonableness  and  perfection  of  the 
law  by  which  you  are  condemned,  you  could  not  rest 
a  moment  in  your  sins — you  would  fly  from  them, 
as  from  the  quenchless  flame  in  your  dwelling — you 
would  'lay  aside  these  weights,'  as  the  swimmer 
would  drop  bars  of  gold,  when  he  found  they  were 
sinking  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep. 

It  is  too  evident  to  need  farther  illustration,  that 
the  species  of  infidelity,  which  we  have  aimed  to 
expose,  is  very  common — that  the  repose  of  impeni- 
tent men  is  inconsistent  with  just  apprehensions  of 
the  moral  attributes  of  God,  and  is  therefore  proof 
they  have  either  concluded  in  their  hearts  with  the 
fool,  that  'there  is  no  God,'  or  have  changed  his  truth 
into  a  lie,  by  imagining  him  to  be  '  altogether  such  a 
one  as  themselves.'  They  may  not  be  conscious  of 
the  process  by  which  they  have  come  to  this  conclu- 
sion. But  if  they  could  remember  what  has  so  often 
quieted  their  alarms  and  allayed  their  convictions, 
they  might  discover  it  was  a  secret  peradventure 
that  God  will  not  bring  <  every  work  into  judgment, 
20* 


234  POPULAR   INFIDELIW. 

with  every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be  good  or 
evil' — that  he  is  not  <  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold 
iniquity/  or  that  he  will  at  least,  when  he  beholds 
the  greatness  of  their  number,  think  it  a  pity  to  de- 
stroy so  many,  Let  them  watch  the  operations  of 
their  minds,  and  see  how  often  thoughts  of  this  cha- 
racter minister  to  their  repose;  how  much  the  num- 
ber with  whom  they  are  connected,  reconciles  them 
to  their  condition;  how  often  their  fears  are  quelled 
by  the  hilarity  and  boldness  of  those  who  have 
equal  or  more  reason  to  tremble  than  themselves; 
how  much  easier  they  have  always  found  it  to 
believe  what  they  desired,  than  what  they  feared 
might  be  true;  and  then,  let  them  determine  if  these 
are  not  the  unresisted  goings-on  of  unbelief  in  their 
minds,  by  which  they  seem  likened  to  God,  as  the 
apparent  distance  between  one  object  and  another,  is 
shortened  by  the  nature  of  the  instrument  through 
which  it  is  viewed. 

We  have  dwelt  long  on  this  subject,  because  we 
esteem  it  to  be  of  great  practical  importance.  We 
believe  the  carelessness  and  hardness  of  secular  men 
to  be  owing,  chiefly,  to  this  species  of  infidelity. 
There  has,  too,  been  no  lack  of  industry  in  fortify- 
ing the  external  defences  of  the  Christian  doctrine. 
Could  any  brightness  of  outward  evidence,  any 
depth  of  research,  any  cogency  of  argument,  £on- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  235 

vince  them,  infidelity,  with  whatever  shape  of  irre- 
ligion  it  assumes,  had  long  since  disappeared.  Still, 
they  are  not  convinced;  and  it  has  seemed  that  they 
have  need  to  turn  their  thoughts  in  upon  themselves, 
to  analyze  their  indifference,  or  at  least  to  have  some 
opinion  of  it,  and  to  give  it  a  proper  name.  This  we 
have  attempted  to  do,  we  wish  we  could  say  with  as 
much  success  in  convincing  the  reader  as  desire  of 
doing  so. 


236  POPULAR    INFIDELITY* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Man  treated  as  a  rational  being  in  all  the  divine  dispensations— No 
mysteries  of  feeling  in  regard  to  the  doctrines  of  grace — Reason  a 
competent  judge  of  things  necessary  to  salvation — Hinderances  to 
its  right  exercise — Our  difficulty  with  religion  our  fault — Contra- 
riety of  the  sentiments  and  practice  of  Christ  to  human  nature  a 
ground  of  unbelief— Our  incapacity  to  comprehend  and  believe 
the  gospel — How  acquired — How  to  be  removed— Divine  grace 
attainable  when  truly  desired — Acts  of  holy  obedience  free  and 
rational — Dispensations  of  grace  encouraging  in  every  scriptural 
view  of  them — Power  of  truth — Misconceptions  of  it  the  same 
thing  as  infidelity — Testimony  of  the  Scriptures— Striking  guilt 
of  sinners  in  likening  God  to  themselves. 

If  God  does  not  presume  we  will  act,  he  certainly 
intends  we  shall  answer  to  him,  as  rational  creatures; 
for  he  ever  treats  with  us  on  this  high  ground,  and 
never  moves  us,  except  so  that  we  seem  to  move 
ourselves.  He  has  given  no  attestation  of  his  will 
or  of  our  duty,  makes  no  promises  and  exerts  no 
agency  on  us,  except  such  as  both  accord  with  and 
infer  our  reason.  He  could  do  his  will  in  us,  or 
make  us  do  it,  without  this  condescension  to  our 
nature;  but  he  designs  not  to  force  or  subdue  our 
reason  to  the  belief  of  the  gospel.  Had  this  been 
his  method,  he  would  not  have  said,  '  Come,  let  us 
reason  together;'  he  would  not  have  set  us  an  exam- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  237 

pie  of  obedience,  and  attempered  his  addresses  to  the 
various  sensibilities  of  our  frame ;  he  would  have 
spared  himself  the  trouble  of  working  signs,  and 
wonders,  and  miracles,  and  have  waived  all  other 
arguments,  which  are  only  appeals  to  reason.  We 
are  indeed  encouraged  to  pray  God  'to  enlighten  our 
minds  and  understandings,'  to  give  us  'an  increase  of 
knowledge  and  a  right  judgment  in  all  things;'  but 
in  this  his  spiritual  operation  he  guards  our  reason; 
he  only  clears  away  the  darkness  about  it,  brightens 
the  evidence  of  things,  that  we  may  more  clearly 
distinguish  truth  from  error,  and  better  judge  of  his 
requirements  as  rational  beings. 

But  we  need  not  wind  our  way,  cautiously,  over 
this  subject.  There  are  mysteries  in  regard  to  our 
moral  agency,  but,  happily,  they  are  not  mysteries 
of  feeling.  As  Adam  was  'put  into  the  garden  to 
keep  and  to  dress  it,'1  so  God  has  intrusted  us  with 
u  stewardship,  with  the  custody  and  culture  of  our 
hearts;  and  the  doctrine  is,  '  wrork  out  your  own  sal- 
vation with  fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  which 
worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good 
pleasure.'2  The  direction  and  the  reason  upon  which 
it  is  based,  accord,  perfectly,  with  our  experience, 
and  with  all  his  methods  of  treating  with  us  and 
acting  on  us.  We  may  find  difficulties  in  religion, 
1  Gen.  ii.  15.  a  Yhi[.  ii.  12,  13. 


238  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

and  hinderances  to  our  faith,  but  our  reason  is,  and  is 
accounted  to  be,  a  competent  judge  of  things  neces- 
sary to  be  believed  and  understood  for  our  salvation. 
If  we  perplex  and  embarrass  our  minds  with  things 
not  necessary,  not  knowable  by  us,  not  revealed,  or 
revealed  only  for  the  trial  of  our  faith,  and  the  in- 
citement of  our  humility  and  admiration,  we  do  so 
to  our  cost  and  peril.  We  assume  the  responsibility, 
we  venture  out  of  our  sphere,  and,  if  we  become 
suspicious  and  disloyal  subjects,  we  must  thank  our 
daring  for  it  Whatever  it  be  which  disaffects  us 
with  the  truth  necessary  to  be  known  and  know- 
able  by  us,  it  is  our  fault.  The  exercise  indeed  of 
our  reason  in  regard  to  things  revealed  and  essen- 
tial to  salvation,  depends  upon  our  will  and  inclina- 
tion, which,  besides  that  they  are  not  naturally 
given  to  dwell  on  these  things,  are  apt  to  be  en- 
gaged and  taken  up  with  pursuits  and  enjoyments, 
not  only  foreign,  but  adverse  to  them.  Thus,  at  the 
first  appearance  of  ous  Saviour,  many  were  his  ene- 
mies; his  new  doctrine  was  'foolishness'  to  some, 
and  a  i  stumbling-block'  to  others;  not  that  they  took 
time  to  examine  it,  not  that  it  wanted  any  proper 
evidence,  but  because  his  doctrine  did  not  fall  in 
with  their  prejudices  and  interests,  nor  his  preten- 
sions suit  their  ambitious  aspirings;  in  which  they 
were  clearly   guided,  rot  by  their  reason,  or  the 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  239 

evidence  of  the  case,  but  by  a  perverse  will  and  the 
evil  possessions  of  their  heart. 

But  since, — from  our  natural  notions  of  right  and 
wrong,  we  cannot  but  know,  if  know  we  will,  that  a 
revelation,  coming  from  a  holy  God  to  unholy  crea- 
tures and  proposing  their  renovation,  must  cross 
their  evil  designs  and  affections, — any  difficulty  we 
may  have  or  make  with  the  truths  of  religion  on  this 
score,  instead  of  diminishing  their  evidence  to  our 
reason,  does  greatly  increase  it.  Such  difficulty, 
however,  shows  that,  in  order  to  enable  us  fairly  to 
examine  these  truths,  and  to  believe  them  on  appro- 
priate and  sufficient  evidence,  the  opposition  of  our 
hearts  to  them  must  be  overcome.  This  too  seems  to 
be  taught  when  our  Lord  said,  '  If  any  man  will  do 
God's  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it 
be  of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  myself  ;n  that  is,  if 
a  man  has  not  a  disposition  to  obey  the  truth,  he  is  not 
in  a  condition  to  have  a  correct  understanding  of  it; 
he  is  not  prepared  to  receive  the  doctrine  of  Christ, 
and  to  believe  him  to  be  '  a  teacher  come  from  God.' 

Now  this  disposition  is  far  from  being  natural 
to  men.  When  we  contrast  their  sentiments  and 
practice  with  the  sentiments  and  practice  of  Christ, 
we  see  the  greatest  disagreement.  We  naturally 
estimate  nothing  as  he  did,  and  it  is  therefore 
'John  vii.  16,  17. 


240  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

no  wonder  that  we  are  ( offended  in  him.'  He 
wanted  worldly  greatness,  and  though  his  want- 
ing it  did  not  make  him  less  honourable,  but  ren- 
dered that  so,  which  he  did  not  choose  to  take  on 
him,  still  we  can  hardly  bear  to  serve  him  in  that 
station  in  which  he  so  meekly  and  greatly  served 
us.  He  magnified  and  seemed  to  court  the  most 
difficult  duties;  but  we  start  at  difficulty,  and  turn 
back  when  our  way  is  in  the  wilderness.  The 
duties  which  cross  and  disaffect  us,  were  all  easy 
and  natural  to  him,  because  his  whole  humour  was 
in  accordance  with  them.  Therefore  he  could  con- 
sent to  be  poor  and  unhonoured — a  dependant  upon 
the  charity  of  others — but  to  be  poor,  to  beg,  we 
are  ashamed.  We  can  give  bountifully  perhaps  to 
others;  but  sweetly  to  receive  their  charities  and 
depend  on  them,  that  is  a  dignity  which  we  can  as 
little  see  to  be  so,  as  desire  to  attain.  Indeed,  there 
are  stout  pretenders  to  virtue,  who  would  think  it 
more  honourable  to  obtain,  by  indirect  and  covert 
means,  yea,  by  evident  injustice  and  fraud,  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life,  than  to  receive  them  at  the  hands 
of  a  willing  charity.  In  order  for  them  to  '  know 
of  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  whether  it  be  of  God,'  it 
is  evident  that  they  must  have  a  temper  more  in 
harmony  with  his  teaching  and  example;  they  must 
'  know  how  to  abound,  to  suffer  want,'  and  to  do  all 


TOrULAR    INFIDELITY.  241 

other  duties  which  cross  our  evil  nature.1  If  men's 
opinions  and  practices  can  so  prevail  with  us,  as  to 
be  permitted  to  give  the  stamp  of  littleness  or  great- 

1  It  sounds  strange  perhaps  to  speak  of  poverty  as  a  duty,  espe- 
cially when  so   many  are  made  poor  by  their  vices,  and  when  a 
volume  has  so   recently  been  written,  designed  to  prove,  from  the 
Bible,  "  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man  to  become  rich."     This  is 
baiting  the  hungry  with  what  they  like  at  least.     But  we  must  yet 
think  that  poverty  is  a  duty,  a  great  and  comprehensive  duty.     This 
may  appear  to  be  a  presuming  and  forward  opinion  ; — 
"For,  in  the  fatness  of  these  pursy  times, 
Virtue  itself  of  vice  must  pardon  beg ; 
Yea,  curb  and  woo,  for  leave  to  do  him  good." 

The  contrariety  of  the  spirit  and  practice  of  Christ  to  our  natural 
feelings  and  conceptions  is  so  great,  and  so  evidently  the  ground  of 
our  misconceiving,  and,  therefore,  in  effect,  discrediting  his  true  cha- 
racter, that  we  shall  take  the  liberty  here  to  go  out  of  our  way  a 
little  to  illustrate  it. 

It  may  perhaps  be  our  duty  to  be  poor,  certainly  it  may  be,  if  it  is 
not  the  will  of  God  that  all  should  be  rich.  All  our  abuses,  both  of 
poverty  and  riches,  are  breaches  of  tins  duty.  Our  Saviour  also 
gave  it  the  place  of  honour  in  his  life  and  instructions.  And  if  we 
consider  what  seems  to  ruin  so  many  souls,  and  to  cause  crimes  to 
abound,  we  shall  not  wonder  at  it.  One  of  the  chief  temptations  to 
all  the  wickedness  in  the  world  is  the  terror  of  poverty.  It  is  a  great 
and  powerful  mover  of  unrighteousness,  covetousness,  extortion,  and 
cheating.  In  short,  what  evil  have  men  not  done,  through  fear  of 
being  reduced  to  live  in  a  low  condition,  or  an  immoderate  desire  of 
riches.  If  all  had  a  right  esteem  of  poverty,  evidently  we  should 
feel  much  safer  on  every  side ;  we  should  not  need  so  many  laws 
and  prisons  for  the  protection  of  rights.  And  what  can  more  clearly 
show  our  want  of  faith  in  Christ,  our  want  of  a  due  impression  of 
his  honour  and  glory,  than'  our  fear  and  shame  of  that  rank  in  the 
world  which  he  chose  for  himself.  It  is  proof  enough  how  little  we 
have  of  the  temper  of  Christ,  that  we  have  so  little  patience  with  his 
station  in  the  world.  We  seem  not  to  know  how  to  be  honoured, 
2\ 


242  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

ness  to  all  the  designs  and  pursuits  of  life,  we  shall 

make  ill  work  of  estimating  the  doctrine  and  exam- 

but  to  seek  honour  from  that  which  could  confer  no  honour  on  him. 
The  character  of  a  poor  godly  man  we  can  ill  bear ;  it  is  not  envied, 
not  perhaps  admired  by  us,  though  it  was  the  character  of  the  Cre- 
ator of  the  world  when  he  '  dwelt  among  us.'  Thus  his  doctrine 
must  be  an  offence  to  us.     Our  character  makes  it  so. 

We  also  seem  to  value  wise  heads  more  than  good  hearts,  but  he 
sought  no  such  distinction.  He  had  all  wisdom  and  learning  at  his 
command,  and  understood  all  mysteries,  yet  he  made  no  display  of 
knowledge,  and  was  satisfied  to  confine  himself  to  magnify  and 
obey  the  holy  law  of  God  ;  he  said  and  did  nothing  but  what  was 
useful  to  encourage  humility,  and  holiness,  and  patient  well-doing. 
Should  we  do  so,  or  should  we  be  as  careful  and  expend  as  much  to 
improve  our  hearts,  as  heads,  we  might  become  surprising  proficients 
in  holiness.  And  when  we  are  good  enough,  if  we  hare  not  sense 
enough,  we  shall  be  satisfied  with  what  we  have.  But  we  clearly 
do  not  see  this  subject  as  he  saw  it.  We  have  one  rule  of  estima- 
tion ;  he  had  another  and  very  different  one.  We  must  be  in  the 
wrong — we  have  lost  the  secret  of  true  greatness, — rather  we  never 
had  it. 

We  are  also  prone  to  admire  and  imitate  the  actions  of  great 
men.  We  reward  good,  and  punish  evil  deeds,  to  encourage  the 
imitation  of  the  one,  and  prevent  the  repetition  of  the  other.  We 
expect  to  aid  the  cause  of  virtue  in  this  way.  Christ  pursued  the 
same  plan,  left  us  a  life  of  great  and  worthy  actions,  yea,  of  those 
very  actions  which  he  requires  of  us  ;  and  though  we  are  so  good  at 
imitation  in  other  respects,  yet  what  wretched  learners  and  imitators 
in  this  !  That  we  do  refuse  to  follow  so  great  an  example,  when 
the  acts  of  our  solicited  imitation,  are  the  acts  which  he  will  reward 
with  eternal  life,  and  the  acts  too,  to  which  our  duty  draws  us,  is  a 
strange  perverseness,  and  shows  that  we  lie  under  an  indisposition 
to  do  what  our  reason  approves. 

"  Sure  He  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 
Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 
That  capability  and  godlike  reason 
To  fust  in  us  unused." 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  243 

pie  of  Christ,  to  which  both  they  and  our  hearts  are 
opposed.  If  the  example  of  the  Creator  cannot 
weigh  with  us  as  much  as  that  of  creatures,  in  fixing 
the  standard  of  greatness,  and  the  rule  of  valuing 
temporal  things,  we  shall  continue  to  hear  and  not 
understand,  when  the  question  of  our  duty  is  pro- 
posed. We  are  under  an  incapacity  to  comprehend 
and  believe,  which  reason  and  conscience  both  con- 
demn as  our  fault. 

So  long  as  lust,  pride,  any  evil  temper,  or  the 
love  of  the  world  has  dominion  over  us,  we  must 
not  only  have  a  great  indisposition  to  inquire  after 
divine  truths,  but  a  great  blindness  to  the  brightness 
and  excellency  of  them.  We  never  see  the  full 
beauty,  the  proper  evidence  of  any  good  quality,  if 
we  deem  it  undesirable,  much  less  if  it  be  adverse 
to  our  desires.  Hence  only  ( he  that  is  of  God  hear- 
eth  God's  word;'1  that  is,  only  he,  that  is  disposed 
by  the  grace  of  God,  obeys  him.  'No  one  can  come 
unto  me,'  says  our  Lord,  '  except  the  Father,  which 
hath  sent  me,  draw  him.  No  man  can  come  unto 
me,  except  it  were  given  unto  him  of  my  Father.' 
Why?  Because  <  ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye 
might  have  life.'2  '  Light  has  come  into  the  world,' 
and  why  do  not  men  receive  it  ?  Only  *  because 
their  deeds  are  evil.'  Why  do  '  they  hate  the 
« John  viii.  47.  2  lb.  v.  40. 


244  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

light,'  and  turn  their  eyes  from  it?  Only  '  lest  their 
deeds  should  be  reproved.'  Their  indisposition  to 
see  and  understand  the  truth,  is  '  the  very  head  and 
front  of  their  offending;'  it  is  no  palliation  of  their 
guilt,  but  the  life,  the  growth  of  it,  and  it  must  be 
taken  away  before  they  can  believe.  This  is  the 
whole  matter.  Accordingly,  '  If  any  man  will 
come  unto  me,'  says  our  Lord  again,  <  let  him  deny 
himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me;'1  that 
is,  if  any  man  wishes  to  become  his  disciple,  he 
must  first  be  willing  to  deny  himself  the  gains  and 
pleasures  which  are  most  pleasing  to  nature  ;  he 
must  lay  aside  his  weights,  disengage  his  affections, 
and  so  he  may  <  take  up  his  cross,'  (a  cross  still,  and 
his  cross,  too,)  and  '  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord,'2 
yet  '  not  as  though  he  had  already  attained,  either 
were  already  perfect;  but  following  after,  if  that  he 
may  apprehend  that  for  which  also  he  is  appre- 
hended of  Christ  Jesus.'3 

We  must  now  be  able  to  see  what  hinders  our  be- 
lieving; and  if  we  have  not  found  it  easier  to  lay  our 
passions  and  master  our  inclinations  in  deference  to 
the  claims  of  religion  than  it  falls  to  our  experience 
in  other  cases,  we  shall  be  prepared  to  welcome  the 
doctrine  of  divine  grace,  as  one  suited  to  the  neces- 
sity, if  not  to  the  good  pleasure,  of  our  nature.  All 
»  Matt.  xvi.  24.  2  Hos.  vi.  3.  3  Phil.  iii.  12. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITr,  245 

who  are  disposed  to  receive  the  faith  of  Christ,  are 
drawn  to  it  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  He  opens  their 
hearts,  as  he  did  Lydia's,  'to  attend  unto  the  things 
which  were  spoken  of  Paul/1  There  is  no  possible 
discouragement  in  this  doctrine;  for,  by  what  rule 
and  in  what  measure  soever  it  be  given,  we  are  sure 
that  none  can  ever  want  the  grace  of  God,  who  are 
willing  to  have  it.  It  is  easy  for  men  to  say  they 
desire  grace,  and  perhaps  to  persuade  themselves 
that  they  desire  it,  but  it  is  all  a  deception,  if  they 
are  averse  to  the  virtues  and  tempers  which  God  re- 
quires, because  this  is  the  same  thing  as  being  averse 
to  that  operation  of  his  Spirit  which  produces  them. 
They  choose  to  be  without  his  grace,  unless  they 
seek  it  in  his  appointed  ways,  with  the  same  earnest- 
ness as  they  seek  other  things  which  they  want  and 
must  have.  If  they  desire  the  grace  of  God,  they 
will  at  least  avoid  all  hinderances  to  it,  and  cease  to  do 
things  contrary  to  it.  What  they  want  and  seek  on 
other  conditions,  is  not  what  he  proposes  as  grace. 
He  does  not  give  men  grace,  or  make  them  holy, 
against  their  will.  He  indeed  makes  them  willing, 
yet  not  as  by  force,  but  something  as  the  sun's  heat 
wills  them  to  the  cooling  shade,  or  as  its  sweetness 
wills  them  to  taste  of  offered  fruit.  As  he  makes  us 
see  and  walk  by  giving  us  natural  light  and  strength, 

1  Acts  xvi.  11. 
21* 


246  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

so  he  gives  us  spiritual  light  and  strength,  that  we 
may  do  him  the  reasonable  service  he  requires.  He 
never  deals  with  us  more  strictly  as  rational  creatures, 
than  he  does  in  giving  us  the  assistance  of  his  Spirit, 
and  we  are  never  so  rational  in  our  exercises,  as  when 
we  believe  his  truth,  and  love  and  adore  his  perfec- 
tions,— they  being  so  worthy  of  this  obedience,  and 
our  rendering  it  an  act  so  rational,  that  it  makes  us 
at  once  both  happy  and  deserving  to  be  so.  Thus, 
while  we  are  always  failing  of  our  duty,  and  have 
every  reason,  deducible  from  our  nature  and  doings, 
to  know  that  we  shall  continue  to  fail  of  it  on  any 
other  plan  than  that  which  is  laid  in  the  gospel,  we 
see  that  this  proceeds  not  less  upon  a  knowledge  of 
our  spiritual  necessities,  our  weakness  and  corrup- 
tion, than  upon  the  supposition  that  we  will  do 
nothing,  till  he  opens  the  eyes  of  our  understand- 
ing, inclines  our  will  to  that  whereto  it  does  not 
naturally  incline,  and  so  '  fulfils  in  us  all  the  good 
pleasure  of  his  goodness,  and  the  work  of  faith.'1 
Our  endeavours  and  our  prayers  are  indeed  neces- 
sary; for  God,  who  does  our  work  for  us,  will  never 
do  it  without  us.  We  must  have  the  assistance  of 
his  Spirit;  but  we  have  no  ground  to  expect  it,  if 
we  will  not  seek  it.  He  must  work  in  us  his  own 
'fruits;'  but  we  have  no  ground  to  expect  it,  unless 
'2Thess.i.  11. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  247 

we  do  things  meet  to  them,  yea,  unless  c  we  also 
labour  thereto,  striving  according  to  his  working.'1 
But  we  must  '  not  be  high-minded,'  or  suppose  that 
we  can  do  any  thing  as  of  ourselves;  for  '  it  is  God 
that  worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to  do,'  and  all  the 
fruit  we  bear,  is  the  fruit  of  his  Spirit,  not  the  fruit 
of  our  prayers  and  doings  as  ours;  we  bear  fruit 
indeed,  but  it  is  as  branches,  we  owe  it  all  to  6  the 
fatness  of  the  olive-tree,'  not  to  ourselves — we  'bear 
not  the  root,  but  the  root  beareth  us.'3  How  suit- 
able then,  how  animating  to  us,  is  the  doctrine,  that 
we  have  an  Intercessor  on  high,  who  has  offered 
himself  once  for  all  unto  God,  and  through  whom, 
not  only  the  good  things  of  this  life,  made  holy  and 
salutary,  are  granted  to  us  anew  as  pledges  of  a 
Father's  care,  but  also  the  gift,  the  great,  the  un- 
speakable gift  of  a  divine  Comforter,  one  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  to  be  to  those  who  are  ignorant 
the  Spirit  of  knowledge,  to  those  who  are  perplexed 
with  doubts  and  errors  the  Spirit  of  truth,  and  to 
those  who  are  polluted  with  sin,  and  they  are  all, 
the  Spirit  of  holiness! 

We  may  also  see  that  all  the  hinderances  to  our 
faith  are  in  ourselves.     They  are  our  evil  desires 
and   passions,  our   love   of  the  world,  '  and  what- 
ever  worketh   abomination  or  maketh  a  lie;'  and 
'  Col.  i.  29.  2  Rom.  xj.  i7j  is. 


248  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

contemplating  their  operation  simply,  we  may  re- 
solve them  all  into  an  indisposition  to  attend  to  divine 
things.  Now  this  indisposition,  this  drifting  of  the 
mind  and  the  affections  to  sensible  objects,  nothing 
can  break  but  the  power  of  truth.  Indeed,  it  has  its 
seat  in  misconceptions  of  the  truth,  both  as  it  relates 
to  the  nature  of  sin  and  to  the  character  of  God. 
Men  who  are  in  this  condition,  are  not  without  opi- 
nions on  these  subjects.  Their  opinions  may  not  be 
rational;  they  may  be  as  inconsiderate  as  any  other 
part  of  their  conduct;  they  may  not  themselves  be 
sensible  of  the  degree  of  their  influence,  or  of  the 
mode  of  their  operation;  but  they  are  no  feeble  and 
sickly  agents;  they  are,  and  can  be  shown  to  be, 
strong  enough  to  withstand  the  force  of  truth,  which 
is  always  sufficient  to  carry  right  minds,  and  which, 
rightly  understood,  is  never  inconsiderable  with  the 
worst  hearts.  They  have  become  so  familiar  with 
their  crimes  and  follies  by  custom,  that  they  scarcely 
see  any  demerit  in  them,  and,  of  course,  they  do  not 
see  the  truth  that  might  present  them  in  a  true 
character.  Their  worldliness  is  an  indefinable  some- 
thing, upon  which  the  conscience  never  fixes  any 
guilt,  and,  of  course,  they  do  not  see  the  guiltiness 
of  not  loving  God,  nor  that  his  loveliness  which,  if 
truly  seen,  appears  so  great,  that  we  must  needs  love 
him  and  thirst  after  him,  as  that  which  exceeds  all 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  249 

other  delights.  Their  sinfulness — considered  as  se- 
parate from  acts,  as  a  thing  attached  to  their  nature, 
and  running  through  their  spiritual  exercises  and 
affections,  and  there  when  not  running,  like  distem- 
pered blood  that  runs  or  lodges  in  the  heart  and 
veins  of  the  fleshly  system,  corrupting  and  bringing 
to  decay  the  outward  man — is  of  very  small  ac- 
count with  them,  and,  of  course,  they  do  not  see  it 
as  defiling,  yea,  as  death's  corruption.  In  order  to 
have  a  perfectly  just  and  lively  sense  of  the  evil  of 
sin,  we  must  be  entirely  free,  not  only  from  the 
dominion,  but  from  any  measure  of  the  love  and 
practice  of  it;  but  they  are  confessedly  under  its  do- 
minion and  in  passion  with  its  service.  We  might 
still  proceed  with  proofs  of  their  misconceptions  of 
the  truth  as  affecting  themselves.  They  do  not  pro- 
fess to  disbelieve  these  or  any  similar  truths,  and  it 
follows,  therefore,  that  they  must  have  erroneous  con- 
ceptions of  them;  and,  if  we  sound  the  matter  to  the 
bottom,  we  shall  find  that  this  is  a  chief  cause  of  their 
inattention  to  religion;  that  they  have,  through  the 
cleceivableness  of  the  heart,  imposed  upon  themselves 
such  views  of  their  own  character,  as  leave  them  little 
to  choose  between  it  and  the  holiness  which  is  requir- 
ed of  them,  and  as  little  to  fear  from  the  divine  dis- 
pleasure. In  other  words,  they  have  come  to  imagine 
that  God  is  '  altogether  such  a  one  as  themselves.' 


250  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

The  root  of  the  difficulty  is,  they  want  a  knowledge, 
an  understanding  of  the  truth;  they  are  alienated 
from  the  life  of  God  6  through  the  ignorance  that  is 
in  them.' 

And  this  view  of  the  subject,  which  has  hereto- 
fore occupied  so  considerable  a  portion  of  our  atten- 
tion, we  think  accords  with  the  Scriptures.  We  may 
justly  appeal  to  them  for  testimony  in  reasoning  with 
those  who  profess  to  receive  them  as  the  word  of  God, 
though  we  do  not  profess  to  credit  their  faith  in 
them;  and  when  they  are  found  to  foretell  the  difficul- 
ties men  experience  in  believing,  and  their  evasions 
and  misconceptions  of  the  truth  with  the  causes 
thereof,  and  the  prediction  or  resolution  of  the  matter 
agrees  with  their  own  consciousness  and  the  general 
analogies  of  human  conduct,  it  should  be  a  very  con- 
vincing, as  it  is  a  very  intelligible,  proof  that  the 
Scriptures  came  from  him  who  '  knew  what  is  in 
man.'  In  confirmation  of  the  position  under  review, 
we  have  already  quoted  some  scriptural  proofs,  and 
shall  now  add  a  few  more.  When  addressing  his 
Christian  brethren,  St.  Paul  says,  'Now  we  have  re- 
ceived, not  the  Spirit  of  the  world,  but  the  Spirit 
which  is  of  God;  that  we  might  know  the  things  that 
are  freely  given  us  of  God.  But  the  natural  man  re- 
cciveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God;  for  they 
are  foolishness  unto  him;  neither  can  he  know  them, 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  251 

because  they  are  spiritually  discerned.'1  The  import 
of  this  passage  evidently  is,  that '  the  things  of  God/ 
the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  both  as  they  relate  to  his 
moral  perfections,  and  to  man's  corruption  and  guilt, 
cannot  be  rightly  apprehended  without  concordant 
feelings  on  his  part,  without  those  veritable  and  pure 
views  and  affections  which  are  imparted  through 
the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  influence  of 
moral  character  on  the  perceptions  of  the  mind,  and 
thereby  presenting  to  us  objects  in  our  own  like- 
ness, and  producing  a  dangerous  faith,  is  here  clearly 
recognised  by  the  apostle,  and  this  is  the  principle 
which  has  pervaded  all  our  remarks  upon  the  sub- 
ject. The  same  truth  is  also  taught  in  all  that  clas3 
of  texts  which  connect  our  true  knowledge  of  God, 
that  is,  our  perceiving  his  moral  perfections  aright, 
with  our  love  of  him,  or  our  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands. '  He  that  loveth  not  knoweth  not  God;  for 
God  is  love.  He  that  loveth  is  born  of  God,  and 
knoweth  God.  We  are  of  God;  he  that  knoweth 
God  heareth  us ;  he  that  knoweth  not  God  heareth 
not  us, — thereby  know  we  the  spirit  of  truth  and 
the  spirit  of  error.'2  And  again,  says  the  psalmist, 
c  A  good  understanding  have  all  they  that  keep  thy 
commandments.  I  have  more  understanding  than 
all  my  teachers;  for  thy  testimonies  are  my  medi- 
■  1  Cor.  ii.  12—14.  2  ]  j0hn  ft.  G— 3. 


252  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

tation.  Through  thy  precepts  I  get  understand- 
ing: therefore  I  hate  every  false  way.71  Again, 
there  is  a  remarkable  passage  which  applies  ex- 
pressly to  our  purpose,  that  where  God  is  repre- 
sented as  directly  addressing  sinners  who  hate 
instruction  and  commit  abominable  iniquity,  and 
saying,  <  These  things  hast  thou  done,  and  I  kept 
silence;  thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether  such  a 
one  as  thyself.'2  We  may,  therefore,  conclude  that 
<  He  who  saith,  I  know  God,  and  keepeth  not  his 
commandments,  is  a  liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in 
him.'3  He  sees  nothing  as  it  is;  every  object  bears 
more  or  less  the  stamp  of  his  own  character.  If  he 
saw  the  whole  truth,  the  effulgence  would  be  insuf- 
ferable; if  he  saw  it  very  imperfectly,  yet  loving 
what  he  saw,  and  desiring  to  see  more,  his  doubts 
and  difficulties  would  vanish  before  it,  and  the  truth 
would  make  him  <  free  indeed.'  Therefore,  <  let  us 
not  love  in  word,  neither  in  tongue,  but  in  deed 
and  in  truth  ;  and  hereby  shall  ye  know  that  we 
are  of  the  truth,  and  shall  assure  our  hearts  before 
God.'4 

'  Ps.  cxix.  99.  104.  2  Ps.  1.  21.  3  1  John  ii.  4. 

i  'Because  sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not  speedily  executed, 
the  hearts  of  men  are  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil.'  If  they  saw  the 
full  nature  and  demerit  of  '  an  evil  work,'  the  desire  of  doing  it  would 
be  slain,  and  they  would  die  to  sin.  In  both  cases,  all  they  want  is 
the  persuasion  which  a  belief  of  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  would  fur- 
nish.    How  important,  then,  is  it  to  have  correct  perceptions  of  the 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  253 

It  should  be  distinctly  noted,  in  connexion  with 
this  subject,  that  our  erroneous  conceptions  of  the 
truth,  especially  if  they  be  allowances  in  our  own 
behalf,  will  not  only  prevent  our  moral  improve- 
ment, but  sink  us  greatly  below  our  present  standard; 
for  the  lower  our  views  of  duty  and  excellence  now 
are,  the  lower  will  be  the  standard  which  we  shall 
be  apt  to  fix  for  ourselves  to  attain  to,  in  future. 
Our  evil  passions,  soiled  affections,  and  clouded 
minds,  ever  powerful  for  mischief,  and  impotent  of 
good,  if  they,  though  constantly  degenerating,  are 
yet  constantly  presenting  God  to  us  in  our  own  like- 
ness, we  shall  surely  have  a  deity  at  last  that  swiftly 
6  dwarfs  and  withers  its  worshippers' — 

4  The  proper  act  and  figure  of  our  heart.' 

The  peculiar  guilt  of  this  species  of  infidelity  is 
as  worthy  to  be  considered  as  it  is  unlikely  to  be 
felt.  There  is  always  a  strong  tincture  of  self-ap- 
probation in  it,  and  if  we  do  not  give  it  the  name  of 

truth ;  to  take  up  with  no  base  mixtures  of  it,  no  fanciful  substitu- 
tions in  its  place. 

If  knowing  God,  we  will  love  him,  and  if  our  keeping  his  com- 
mandments be  the  evidence  of  our  knowing  him,  as  the  Scriptures 
teach,  then,  certainly,  if  we  pretend  to  know  him  on  any  other 
ground,  '  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us.'  The 
knowledge  we  have  is  not  true  knowledge, — that  is,  does  not  repre- 
sent God  and  his  truth  as  they  are,  but  probably  more,  if  not  such, 
as  we  would  have  them. 

22 


254  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

faith  we  think  it  a  near  relation  of  that  worthy  grace. s 
And  this,  according  to  our  showing,  is  as  apt  to  be 
the  case,  when  our  iniquities  are  great  and  daring, 
yea,  we  may  say  more  apt  to  be  so  then,  because  we 
are  more  blind  to  the  nature  of  sin  and  to  the  beauties 
of  holiness,  than  at  other  times.  That  we  should  be 
so  incautious  as  to  let  our  depravity  run  whither- 
soever it  will,  and  that  sin  should  be  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  lead  us  to  impute  the  qualities  which 
it  breeds  in  us,  to  God  who  has  none  and  can  have 
none  of  them,  shows  both  our  great  sinfulness  and 
the  great  evil  of  sin.  The  guilt  which  we  thus 
incur,  when  contrasted  with  what  God  has  done 
for  us  and  condescends  to  teach  and  promise  on  con- 
dition of  our  faith,  spreads  to  an  immensity  which,  if 
it  be  not  infinite,  would  have  been,  if  we  could  have 
made  it  so.  It  is  the  guilt  not  merely  of  using  the 
gifts  and  mercies  of  God  without  thankfulness,  but  of 
so  abusing  and  corrupting  them  in  our  hands,  that  it 
seems  to  impeach  his  wisdom  that  they  were  ever 
there  at  all — the  guilt  not  merely  of  withholding  the 
faculties  he  has  given  us  from  his  service,  but  of 
marring  their  edge  and  fitness  for  it,  and  employing 
them  to  sully  his  perfections  and  fashion  him  to  our- 

1  Such  a  faith  may  prevent  our  feeling  the  guilt  of  infidelity,  but 
it  exposes  us  to  all  its  perils,  affording  us  no  blessedness  here,  and 
no  assurance  of  any  to  come,  yet  keeping  us  in 

"  But,  as  it  were,  an  after-dinner's  sleep, 
Dreaming  on  both." 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  255 

selves — the  guilt  not  merely  of  failing  to  see  him  in 
the  light  of  his  creatures,  but  of  so  loving  darkness 
as  not  to  heed  the  day-dawn,  the  sun  in  whose  beams 
they  shine  as  the  memorials  and  pledges  of  a  bright- 
ness all  brightness  excelling.  Yes,  this  is  our  guilt, 
the  guilt  of  stamping  our  likeness  on  every  good 
being,  of  staining  with  our  colours  the  beauties  we 
should  make  our  own,  and  being  so  deluded  with 
our  shadows,  by  which  the  glory  of  every  thing  else 
is  obscured,  as  to  lose  sight  of  the  excellency  of 
which  we  are — not  a  shadow — and  that  is  a  resem- 
blance which  it  seems  we  strive  not  to  attain,  though 
it  were  to  us  a  pledge  of  things  which 

"  To  lose  or  give  away,  were  such  perdition, 
As  nothing  else  could  match." 

Will  you,  reader,  meditate  on  the  picture?  Will 
you  think  of  the  surprise  and  disappointment  which 
must  await  you,  if  your  vision  is  not  betimes  rectified 
and  cleared?  He  who  pampers  his  appetite  in  the 
feast  of  a  dream,  may  awake  and  find  himself  famish- 
ing for  food;  but  what  will  be  your  consternation, 
when  your  fancies  give  place  to  the  real  glories  of 
that  Being,  who  *  thou  thoughtest  was  altogether 
such  a  one  as  thyself?'  He  who  is  chased  by  assas- 
sins in  the  sleep  of  night,  awakes,  exhausted  perhaps 
by  his  efforts  to  escape,  yet  finding  himself  reposing 
unmolested  on  his  bed  ;  but  your  disappointment, 


256  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

what  will  it  be,  when  you  awake  from  your  day- 
dreams of  acceptance  at  the  bar  of  God,  and  feel 
yourself  just  kindling  with  '  eternal  burnings,'  and 
discover  then  first,  that  the  <  gulf  between  him  and 
your  own  soul,  which  you  had  imagined  to  be  but 
a  delightful  vale  through  which  you  could  pass  at 
any  moment,  is  indeed  impassable, 

"  The  dark,  unbottom'd,  infinite  abyss." 

If  this  will  be  a  surprise  all  surprise  beyond,  and 
if  the  prospect  of  it  be  terrible,  what  must  the  real- 
ity be  ?  Our  thoughts  cannot  attain  to  it,  and  words 
are  too  feeble  to  express  that  to  which  we  can 
attain.  It  is  for  you  to  reflect,  whether  you  have  a 
faith  which  works  by  love  and  purifies  the  heart, 
which  dissatisfies  you  with  yourself,  and  makes  you 
feel  that  you  can  be  satisfied  only  with  the  likeness 
of  God.  Such  a  faith  you  must  have,  or  you  must 
be  indulging  notions  of  the  divine  perfections  which 
conceal  your  guilt,  and  which,  if  rested  in,  will 
bring  upon  you  this  last  surprise.  Dreams  they 
are  in  which  you  seem  to  be  growing  rich,  while 
that  which  you  have,  is  taken  away  ;  in  which 
you  seem  to  be  in  health  and  security,  while  the 
work  of  death  is  going  on  ;  in  which  perhaps  you 
seem  to  be  brightening  into  the  image,  and  glowing 
with  the  flames  of  a  seraph,  while  you  are  darken- 
ing into  the  likeness,  and  burning  with  the  fires,  of 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  257 

a  fiend.  The  delusion  is  indeed  a  specious  one. 
You  may  love  and  cherish  it,  and  it  may  abide  with 
you  in  life  and  in  death,  but  it  will  dissolve  in  the 
lustre  of  the  i  great  day.'  What  you  want  is  the 
seasonable  and  patient  application  of  your  thoughts  to 
it,  and  to  the  means  of  your  recovery  from  it.1   Were 

If  we  do  not  deceive  ourselves,  the  species  of  infidelity  of  which 
we  speak,  finds  no  little  encouragement  in  the  spirit  and  action  of 
the  present  times.  We  venture  to  think  that  an  impatience  of  re- 
flection, a  taste  for  light  reading  and  preaching  if  you  please,  and  a 
thirst  for  designless  excitement  prevail,  which  tend  to  dwarf  the 
faith  of  men,  to  unsettle  well  informed  opinions,  and  to  satisfy  them 
with  the  fiction  of  truth  and  religion.  They  are  stirred  up  to  action, 
but  not  tempered  and  moulded  to  the  truth.  Fixed  and  certain  prin- 
ciples of  faith,  showing  their  legitimate  effects  in  the  conduct,  do  not 
constitute  the  fashion  of  the  day.  The  public  mind  seems  to  be  at 
sea,  without  sufficient  ballast  to  steady  it — top-light,  and  without  any 
direction  that  can  safely  be  calculated  upon. 

Now,  all  this  bustle,  this  <  flying  from  pillar  to  post,'  this  <  drifting 
before  the  wind,'  must  excite  and  nourish  sense,  and  break  up  and 
prevent  that  calm  contemplation  which  is  the  nurse  of  faith.  It  cer- 
tainly turns  our  thoughts  from  ourselves  and  thus  prevents  that  self- 
acquaintance,  the  want  of  which  makes  us  doubt  the  true  character 
of  all  corruption  in  us,  and  of  all  excellence  foreign  to  us.  It  makes 
this  world,  with  its  movements  and  interests  so  important  and  stir- 
ring, that  we  can  scarcely  get  a  moment,  certainly  not  a  disposition, 
to  think  of  any  thing  in  separation  from  them.  With  the  great 
majority,  as  to  the  attention  which  they  pay  to  spiritual  concerns,  it 
seems  indeed  that 

"  Life's  but  a  walking  shadow;  a  poor  player 

That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 

And  then  is  heard  no  more  ; a  tale 

Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 

Signifying  nothing." 

Men  want  reflection,  a  breaking  off  of  their  hold  on  the  world,  and 
a  steadier  looking  to  the  great  truths  which  are  set  out  for  their 

22* 


58  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

your  temporal  interest  in  like  peril,  you  would  not 
rest  unconcerned,  nor  would  you  leave  what  you 
considered  most  valuable  to  you,  in  this  life,  to 
chance  attentions,  and  to  the  impotency  of  desires 
and  hopes  that  spring  from  no  knowledge  of  their 
object,  and  do  nothing  to  attain  it,  yea,  and  hinder 
your  doing  any  thing  to  that  end.  We  say,  again, 
your  case  is  such,  and  your  reason  so  competent  to 
judge  of  it,  that  you  seem  to  want  most  a  humour 
to  meditate  on  it.  You  take  no  proper  cognizance 
of  what  is  going  on  in  yourself,  none  of  what  God 

guides,  and  from  which  they  are  to  draw  life  eternal.  But  the  times 
do  not  favour  the  change.  They  foster  the  evil,  and  a  great  evil  it  is 
that  they  do.  Men  are  not  in  tranquil  moods,  though  the  times  are 
peaceable.  The  winds  of  passion  swell  and  give  direction  to  every 
thing.  Men  must  have  figures  of  fancy  and  glowing  colours  of 
truth ;  the  thing  itself  is  but  a  dead  fact,  cold  and  narrow, — a  sun  in 
clouds,  whose  heat  is  like  that  of  the  stove,  without  light  and  cheer- 
less. They  appear  palsied  in  a  measure  to  every  thing  but  fiction 
and  storms.  The  inquiry  is,  what  they  can  do  with  this  or  that,  not 
what  it  is;  how  this  end  can  be  reached  by  a  cross-path,  not  what  is 
the  safe  and  appointed  road  to  it ;  how  this  man  can  be  brought  to 
serve  a  certain  purpose,  not  how  he  is  to  be  informed  and  convinced 
as  a  rational  creature.  Very  few  seem  to  love  the  truth  for  the 
truth's  sake,  without  any  foreign  ends,  and  fewer  still  to  see  that 
goodness  and  the  love  of  truth  are  identical,  going  together  as  cause 
and  effect.  Nothing  but  the  brush  of  things  takes  their  attention, 
and  they  feel  and  see  only  in  a  blaze.  They  make  no  intellectual 
progress,  that  is,  none  in  a  continuous  direction,  but  eddy  round  and 
round,  best  pleased  to  be  in  a  whirl.  Faith  and  principle  they  can 
have  little,  and  their  opinions,  which  they  advance  to  the  place  of 
these,  give  way  with  every  press,  and  change  with  every  huzza  for 
new  things.     And  here  we  leave  the  matter. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  259 

is,  and  how  shall  you  believe  ?  You  hear,  or  might 
hear,  a  voice  as  that  of  sweetest  music  in  the  pro- 
mises and  provisions  of  his  grace,  and  in  the  bless- 
ings of  peace  and  plenty  ;  you  hear,  or  might  hear, 
a  noise  as  that  of  thunder  in  his  threatenings  and 
judgments  ;  but  you  do  not  discern  that  this  me- 
lody, or  this  noise,  comes  from  him  ;  you  take  both 
his  judgments  and  his  mercies  as  natural  accidents 
and  emergencies,  which  would  come  to  pass,  though 
there  were  no  dealing  and  speaking  between  God 
and  man.  Not  only  do  you  not  hear  him  in  the 
sound  of  these  his  organs,  but  you  neither  know  nor 
hear  when  he  comes  out  of  the  whirlwind,  and  the 
cloud,  and  the  promise,  and  speaks  to  you,  as  it 
were,  '  face  to  face,'  yea,  and  as  with  his  own,  his 
full  voice  in  Jesus  Christ.  Alas,  that  the  Creator 
should  so  spend  the  riches  of  his  power  and  wisdom 
in  fitting  up  and  furnishing  this  their  earthly  habi- 
tation, and  the  more  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace 
and  love,  that  he  might  raise  them  to  a  fellowship 
with  himself,  and  to  more  durable  and  glorious  man- 
sions in  the  skies,  and  still  find  it  so  difficult,  let 
alone  their  heart,  to  gain  the  eye  or  the  ear  of  his 
creatures  ! 


260  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Inferences  growing  out  of  or  consistent  with  the  principles  of  the 
preceding  discussion — Doctrines  of  religion  viewed  in  relation  to 
our  spiritual  necessities — Mode  of  justification — Due  esteem  of 
Divine  grace — Operation  of  faith — Its  effects  rational — Agency 
of  the  Spirit — His  fruits  contrasted  with  the  works  of  the  flesh — 
Just  deductions  of  reason — Contrariety  of  Christianity  to  our 
corrupt  nature  a  proof  of  its  divine  origin — Reason  competent  to 
judge  of  this — The  assistance  it  gives  to  faith — Obligation  it  im- 
poses on  us  to  believe  strongly — Justness  of  our  thoughts  of 
God  depending  on  the  purity  of  our  hearts— Conceptions  of  holy 
men  contrasted  with  those  of  the  wicked — Necessity  of  a  light 
that  tries  and  purifies. 

If  we  suppose  the  reader  to  be  convinced  of  his 
sinfulness  and  unbelief,  and  filled  with  distress,  what 
can  he  do?  He  sees  that  God  is  just  and  holy,  and 
will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty.  But  he  learns 
that  he  can  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier  of  him  that 
believeth  in  Jesus.  Still  he  feels  his  nature  is  cor- 
rupt, and  that  sin  attaches  to  all  he  does,  and  how  shall 
he  have  deliverance  from  it?  He  learns  that  the  blood 
of  Christ  releases  him  not  only  from  the  condemna- 
tion of  sin,  but  procures  for  him  the  grace  and  power 
by  which  it  may  be  successfully  resisted,  and  shall 
be  finally  overcome.  After  trying  every  thing  else 
for  relief,  and  finding  none,  will  he  not  here  say,  that 
which  I  sought  is  found?    I  have  nothing  to  pay,  and 


TOPULAR    INFIDELITY.  261 

here  is  a  salvation  without  price.  I  want  something  to 
recommend  me  to  a  holy  God,  and  here  is  a  recom- 
mendation which  he  cannot  despise  and  must  needs 
honour.  I  am  denied  with  sin,  and  here  is  a  foun- 
tain that  washes  away  its  every  stain.  I  am  weak 
and  can  have  no  confidence  in  jnyself,  but  here  is 
strength  sufficient  for  me,  strength  omnipotent,  and 
yet  mine  to  employ.  This,  surely,  is  all  my  salva- 
tion, and  all  my  desire. 

How  holy  and  how  averse  soever  to  sin  the  Scrip- 
tures represent  God  to  be,  (and  considered  as  an 
infinite  and  perfect  Being  we  cannot  conceive  too 
highly  of  him  in  this  respect,)  and  how  short  soever 
we  may  come  of  his  holiness  and  of  the  requirements 
of  his  law,  neither  is  proper  ground  for  doubting  the 
testimony  of  the  Scriptures,  or  the  fitness  of  God  to 
be  the  happy  portion  of  creatures  even  so  sinful  and 
unworthy  as  we  are;  for  in  the  plan  whereby  he  pro- 
poses to  save  us,  and  confer  on  us  this  blessedness,  it 
is  contrived,  as  with  design  to  meet  this  objection  to 
our  faith  and  joy,  to  put  so  high  glory  on  us,  that  God 
in  heaven  shall  know  no  man  from  his  Son  so  as  not 
to  see  the  very  righteousness  of  his  Son  in  that  man, 
and  that  no  man  there  shall  be  so  humble,  so  de- 
formed, or  any  way  so  inconsiderable,  as  that  the 
angels  shall  not  desire  to  look  upon  his  face  as  ex- 
pressing the  very  beauty  of  Christ  himself,  a  distinc- 


262  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

tion  which  they  must  needs  regard  as  very  glorious 
in  itself,  and  as  making  him  no  less  so  on  whom  it 
is  conferred,  or  rather  whose  it  is  as  a  nature. 

How  honourable  to  us,  how  wonderful  in  wisdom 
and  grace,  is  the  plan  of  our  salvation!  How  com- 
plete is  its  adaptation  to  our  wants — to  the  ends, 
the  great  and  glorious  ends,  which  it  proposes  to  an- 
swer in  us!  If  we  would  honour  God,  we  must  see 
that  we  honour  this  his  peculiar  work.  He  has  set 
it  apart  in  all  its  operations,  and  parts,  and  issues,  as 
eminently  his  work.  We  are  assured  in  his  word 
that  the  end  of  our  salvation  is,  that  we  may  be  '  to 
the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his  grace.'1  The  Son  of 
God,  who  is  the  unspeakable  gift  of  his  grace,  and 
the  foundation  of  all  blessing,  is  he  that  quickens  us. 
The  Spirit  of  God  is  called  'the  Spirit  of  grace,' 
and  is  given  to  make  us  partakers  of  his  '  grace  and 
truth.'  The  law  of  God  entered,  that  when  sin 
should  abound,  we  might  know  of  its  abounding, 
and  that  '  grace  might  much  more  abound.'  The 
gospel  is  called  'the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,'  and 
the  end  of  it  is,  that  as  sin  had  reigned  unto  death, 
so  grace  might  reign  through  righteousness  unto 
eternal  life.  This  treasure,  too,  is  committed  unto 
earthen  vessels,  that  the  excellency  of  the  power 
might  all  be  of  God,  insomuch,  that  though  the  doc 
1  Eph.  i.  6. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  263 

trine  of  Christ  be  the  means  of  turning  our  souls 
to  God.  yet  it  is  but  a  means,  an  instrument,  that  the 
efficacy  of  it  might  be  seen  to  depend  upon  the  power 
of  God,  and  that  though  we  should  have  a  due 
esteem  of  the  planting  and  watering  of  the  word, 
we  might,  at  the  same  time,  know  that  if  even  Paul 
plant,  and  Apollos  water,  yet  it  is  God  only  who 
can  give  the  increase.  The  design,  on  our  part,  of 
magnifying  his  grace,  should  appear  to  us  a  chief 
duty,  a  great  and  worthy  design  indeed,  when  '  the 
only  wise  God  our  Saviour'  takes  such  care  to  guard 
its  glory,  and  lays  its  foundations  in  such  depths.  If 
the  Scriptures  do  not  deceive  us,  we  shall  never  suc- 
ceed, if  we  slight  this  wonderful  plan  in  any  of  its 
parts.  If  the  blessings  which  it  confers  be  so  very 
great  as  to  bear  any  proportion  to  the  expense  and 
care  on  the  part  of  God  in  procuring  them,  then 
well  is  it,  if  we  make  them  ours;  but  double,  unut- 
terable is  the  folly  of  our  unbelief,  if  we  think  to 
gain  them  on  other  conditions  than  his  own. 

It  is  not  however  more  certain  that  God  engages 
to  perform  all  things  for  us,  than  that,  if  let  alone,  we 
could  and  would  do  nothing  adequate  to  attain  the 
end  of  our  salvation;  and  yet,  if  we  look  to  the  com- 
mencement and  progress  of  divine  life  in  the  soul, 
we  shall  see  that  nothing  is  done  but  in  perfect  ac- 
cordance with  our  rational  nature,  meeting  at  every 


264  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

point  both  what  we  are  and  what  we  need.  And  if 
we  could  be  as  rational  in  considering  and  embracing 
it,  as  the  provision  is  rational  in  its  design  and 
operation,  we  should  be  '  wise  unto  salvation/ 
"  There  is,"  says  Dr.  Donne,  "  a  step  towards  God 
before  we  come  to  faith,  which  is  to  understand;  God 
works  first  upon  the  understanding;  he  proceeds  in 
our  conversion  and  regeneration  as  he  did  in  our 
first  creation.  Then  man  was  nothing ;  but  God 
breathed  not  a  soul  into  that  nothing,  but  of  a  clod 
of  earth  he  first  made  a  body,  and  then  into  that  body 
he  infused  a  soul.  Man  in  his  regeneration  is  nothing, 
and  does  nothing.  His  body  is  not  verier  dust  in  the 
grave,  till  a  resurrection,  than  his  soul  is  dust  in  the 
body,  till  a  resuscitation  by  grace.  But  then  this 
grace  does  not  work  upon  this  nothingness  in  man, 
upon  this  mere  privation;  but  grace  finds  out  man's 
natural  faculties,  and  exalts  them  to  a  capacity  and 
susceptibility  of  the  working  thereof,  and  so  by  the 
understanding  infuses  faith."  Agreeably,  as  we  see, 
God  first  sends  out  his  light  and  truth,  and  then  calls 
on  all  men  everywhere  to  repent  and  believe;  he 
begins  his  instructions  at  the  understanding.  He 
does  not  first  say,  I  will  make  thee  believe,  but,  as 
here,  'I  will  instruct  thee,  and  teach  thee  in  the  way 
which  thou  shalt  go:  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine 
eye.     Be  ye  not  as  the  horse,  or  the  mule,  which 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  265 

have  no  understanding;  which  must  be  held  in  with 
bit  and  bridle,  lest  they  come  near  unto  thee.'1  And 
'the  entrance  of  his  word  giveth  light;  it  giveth 
understanding  unto  the  simple.'2 

The  same  reason  and  adaptation  will  be  perceived 
if  we  look  farther  on  in  the  divine  life;  if  we  trace 
faith  working  by  love,  purifying  the  heart,  and  over- 
coming the  world,  the  three  special  effects  which 
the  Scriptures  ascribe  to  it.  Take  notice,  too,  that 
they  are  the  very  effects  which  it  is  necessary  should 
be  wrought  in  us;  for  we  are  not  naturally  prone  to 
love  God,  neither  are  we  naturally  pure,  and  the  ob- 
jects we  choose  and  the  affections  we  let  out  on  them 
cannot  purify  us,  nor  are  we  naturally  disposed  or 
competent  to  subdue  and  overcome  the  love  of  the 
world;  but  faith  can  do  all  this,  and  the  process  is 
perfectly  agreeable  to  our  rational  nature.  It  un- 
folds new  and  incomparably  attractive  objects  of 
affection  and  hope,  and  points  to  God  as  the  source 
and  centre  of  them,  and  we  must  needs  love  him, 
as  we  will  always  love  that  which  is  most  lovely  to 
our  view,  and  we  must  needs  seek  him  too,  as  we  will 
always  seek  that  which  appears  most  estimable  and 
desirable,  and  he  will  then  appear  not  only  so 
estimable  and  desirable  as  nothing  else  can,  but  he 
is  really  so  estimable  and  desirable,  that  our  loving 
1  Ps.  xxxii.  8,  9.  2  ps.  cxix#  i30. 

22 


266  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

him  shall  make  him  ever  appear  more  and  more  so  for 
ever;  and  so  shall  faith  purify  our  hearts,  as  they  can- 
not but  be  purified  in  loving  what  is  pure,  and 
enable  us  to  overcome  the  world,  as  we  cannot  but 
feel  ourselves  masters  of  it,  when  we  have  an  object 
that  so  transcends  it,  and  are  filled  with  desires  and 
hopes  carrying  us  upward,  and  not  deigning  so  much 
as  to  light  on  things  below. 

This  is  all  agreeable  to  the  truest  philosophy — and 
we  can  judge  of  it  for  ourselves.  We  may  also  see 
the  same  wisdom  in  the  work  which  the  Spirit  has 
to  accomplish  in  us.  It  is  a  wonderful  work,  yet  a 
work  meeting,  so  completely  and  rationally,  the  ne- 
cessities of  our  nature,  that  we  must  be  very  stupid 
not  to  believe  it  of  Divine  appointment,  a  witness  to 
ourselves,  that  should  command  our  faith  in  the  word 
of  God. 

There  is  a  secret  life  of  the  good  man  which  is 
carried  on,  without  the  observation  of  the  world. 
What  most  distinguishes  him  is,  that  he  has  '  the 
secret  of  the  Lord/  a  light  and  agency  from  him, 
one  enabling  him  to  see  moral  qualities  aright,  and 
the  other  disposing  and  helping  him  in  the  fight  of 
faith  and  holiness.  When  he  rightly  understands, 
and  avails  himself  of  these,  he  is  full  of  light  and 
power,  that  is,  he  has  the  strength  and  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord, — the  one  having  this  condition,  that  it  can 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  267 

be  perfected  in  his  weakness,  and  the  other  this 
office,  that  he  is  sent  to  dwell  in  him,  to  enlighten, 
sanctify,  actuate,  and  mould  him  to  his  likeness. 
He  has  an  armour  and  all  needful  instructions  pro- 
vided for  him,  but  without  these  aids  he  can  do  no- 
thing ;  his  strength  is  weakness,  his  mind  is  dark- 
ness, his  heart  is  prepossessed,  and  indisposed  to 
good.  Now,  the  great  difficulty  he  experiences  in 
making  progress,  after  he  has  been  enlightened  and 
turned  to  righteousness,  is,  that  having  been  used  to 
do  it,  he  is  still  prone  and  tempted  to  walk  in  his 
own  strength  and  in  the  sight  of  his  own  eyes.  He 
follows  the  gleaming  light  of  his  passions  and  de- 
sires— that  glowing  of  insects  which  is  never  seen 
except  when  true  effulgence  is  withdrawn — and  no 
wonder  that  he  stumbles,  falls  back,  and  complains 
of  6  the  body  of  this  death.'  <  Without  me,'  says 
Christ,  *  ye  can  do  nothing,'  and  he  is  acting  on  the 
faith  of  his  own  capacity.  We  must  believe  God 
fully,  or  we  shall  profit  little  by  a  belief  of  him  in 
part.  We  should  especially  trust  him  in  things 
which  our  6  confidence  in  the  flesh'  prompts  us  to 
discredit.  We  should  be  most  suspicious  of  allow- 
ances which  import  our  strength  and  importance. 
We  should  be  jealous  of  any  goodness  which  gives 
us  confidence  in  ourselves.  We  should  be  alarmed 
at  any  peace  of  conscience  which  is  not  i  through 


268  POPULAR    INFIDELITT. 

our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  What  we  think  of  our- 
selves is  not  so  much  a  proof  of  what  we  are,  as 
what  we  think  of  Christ,  what  we  are  ready  to  do 
for  him,  and  what  we  expect  of  him.  In  his  light 
alone  we  see  light.  What  we  see  in  us  that  is  not 
of  him,  is  of  the  earth  and  earthy.  The  Spirit  takes 
of  the  things  of  Christ  and  shows  them  unto  us  ;  he 
leads  us  into  the  truth  of  Christ  ;  he  seals  us  unto 
the  day  of  the  redemption' of  Christ.  We  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  God  out  of  Christ,  nor  has  he  any 
thing  to  do  with  us,  but  in  him  we  may  be  c  a  habita- 
tion of  God  through  the  Spirit.'  'Whatsoever  is 
born  of  God  overcometh  the  world.'  It  overcomes 
the  world,  because  it  is  not  of  it,  and  aspires  to  God 
above.  The  strength  by  which  the  victory  is  won, 
is  seen  to  be  of  God,  and  is  referred  to  the  fact  that 
the  man  is  '  created  anew,'  and  his  heart  become  the 
seat  of  the  renewing  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
In  this  dependence  is  all  the  affluence  of  his  strength. 
The  omnipotence  of  grace  puts  itself  forth  in  arms 
of  flesh,  and  the  soldier  of  the  cross  is  thus  made 
mighty.  The  Holy  Spirit,  having  renewed  the 
soul,  exerts  his  own  gracious  power  in  it ;  so  that 
there  need  be  no  weakness  at  all  in  the  Christian. 
He  girds  his  loins  about  l  with  truth,'  imparts  to 
him  that  holiness  which  is  as  a  breast-plate  for  his 
protection,  inspires  him  with  wisdom  and  might  in 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  269 

the  Scriptures,  indites  his  petitions,  and  gives  him 
power  with  God  in  prayer,  and  power  against  sin 
and  the  devil.  Thus  the  work  goes  on.  His  spi- 
ritual foes  are  numerous,  but  the  gifts  and  graces  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  in  the  exercise  and  strength  of 
which  he  strives  against  them,  are  numerous  also. 
And  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  order  and  the  wis- 
dom of  the  process,  so  far  as  its  adaptation  to  our 
nature  is  to  be  considered.  The  works  of  the  flesh, 
and  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  as  they  are  termed  in 
the  Scriptures,  are  opposites,  and  the  only  question 
as  to  complete  success,  unless  we  fail  by  our  wilful 
choice,  is  answered  by  inquiring  which  of  these 
hosts  has  the  strongest  and  wisest  leader.  There  is 
no  inequality  of  numbers,  and  they  stand  breast  to 
breast,  in  nature  and  design  opposite  and  irrecon- 
cilable. There  is  a  separate  and  mighty  energy  of 
grace  for  every  opposing  and  rebellious  appetite, 
temptation,  and  sin.  For  illustration  look  at  the 
array.  Love  to  God  opposes  itself  to  all  other  im- 
moderate attachments.  Joy  in  believing  is  opposed 
to  despondency  and  inaction.  The  '  peace  of  God' 
is  opposed  to  variances,  strifes,  and  contentions. 
Meekness  is  opposed  to  resentments  and  complaints. 
Gentleness,  kindness,  contends  against  envy,  jea- 
lousy, and  implacability.  Charity,  into  which  all 
other  graces  run  as  if  to  make  one  pervading  perfec- 
23* 


270  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

tion,  contends  against  hatred,  pride,  and  every  thing 
that  is  not  like  itself,  lovely  and  of  good  report. 
We  might  proceed  further,  but  let  it  be  observed 
that  these  and  all  other  fruits  of  the  Spirit  are  work- 
ing in  this  manner  to  demolish  the  '  natural  man' 
with  his  '  corrupt  affections  and  lusts.' 

We  trust  the  process  of  this  operation  is  intelligi- 
ble, and  that  the  Christian  will  see  his  need  of 
the  Spirit,  that  with  him  he  can  do  all  things,  and 
without  him  absolutely  nothing, 

We  see  also  how  the  Spirit  exerts  his  agency  in 
the  soul.  All  the  desires  and  affections  of  the  '  carnal 
mind'  have  their  opposites  in  the  products  of  his 
influence.  What  he  has  begun,  if  we  oppose  it  not 
but  strive  with  him,  he  will  accomplish.  He  will 
do  nothing  without  and  contrary  to  our  wills.  That 
so  great  blessedness  which  he  proposes,  he  will  not  so 
confer  but  we  shall  have  it  by  our  choice,  and,  if  not 
a  share  of  merit  in  its  procurement,  at  least  an 
agency  that  bespeaks  our  capacity  for  receiving  and 
enjoying  it.  Man's  virtues  and  powers  are  so  incon- 
siderable, that  we  seem  to  see  best  his  responsibi- 
lity and  greatness  in  his  capacity  to  take  on,  or 
rather,  to  decline  a  divine  nature,  to  drive  away 
from  him  the  Agent  of  such  glory  to  himself.  But 
the  Christian  who  does  this,  or  thinks  to  do  any  good 
thing,  without   courting   his   presence    and  aid,  is 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  271 

guilty  of  a  folly  which  is  so  great,  that  our  attempts 
to  describe  it  but  obscure  its  wonders.  That  an  angel 
can  go  out  from  the  bosom  and  favour  of  God  we 
can,  with  difficulty,  believe,  but  when  permitted  to 
return,  after  tasting  for  a  while  the  bitterness  and 
anguish,  the  remorse  and  shame  of  sin  and  exile, 
that  he  should  fly  back  to  his  place  just  as  the  drop- 
pings and  the  beams  of  heaven  were  pouring  upon 
him  again — this  is  what  we  cannot  believe — this  is 
a  choice  which  must  more  than  double  his  folly  ; 
but  how  it  must  affect  the  guilt,  to  what  measure  it 
must  stretch  the  folly  of  one  who  returns  to  the  bor- 
ders of  such  blessedness  by  a  way  that  is  sprinkled 
with  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God — this  is  what  we 
best  express  without  expression  ! 

This  blessed  Agent,  by  which  every  thing  good  is 
wrought  in  us,  is  too  little  considered  by  pious  peo- 
ple. If  we  read  the  writings  of  the  inspired  apostles, 
we  shall  find  him  the  abounding  subject  of  instruc- 
tion and  admonition.  If  we  look  at  the  plan  of 
salvation,  and  the  mode  in  which  it  is  applied  and 
made  effectual  to  its  end,  we  shall  find  that  though 
it  is  a  finished  work,  full  of  grace  and  truth,  and  shines 
like  the  sun,  making  it  all  light  around,  yet  it  is  un- 
approachable by  us,  till  the  Spirit  brings  to  us  the 
good  gifts  of  its  purchase,  and  works  in  us  that 
acceptance  of  them  which  makes  them  ours.     He 


272  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

breathes  into  us  the  breath  of  a  new  life,  and  dif- 
fuses over  the  soul  the  beams  of  his  own  excellence; 
and  the  life  that  begins  in  him,  can  continue  only  by 
him,  and  act  only  through  him, — he  acting  in  us,  and 
yet  we  so  acting  that  all  our  action  is  ours  in  respon- 
sibility, and  his  in  worth  and  acceptance.  The 
Christian  has  no  merit,  if  it  be  not  merit,  which  is 
not  merit  but  duty,  to  welcome  and  cherish  the  aids 
which  are  proffered  to  him,  and  which  so  do  every 
thing  for  him  that  he  can  do  nothing  without  them. 
This  is  the  reason  why  genuine  humility  is  made 
so  favourite  and  distinguished  a  grace  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, that  it  seems  to  comprise  all  others.  It  is  a 
necessary  fruit  of  all  true  knowledge  of  ourselves 
and  of  God.  All  that  we  have  done  or  cannot  do,  all 
that  God  has  done  or  will  do  for  us,  has  a  tendency  to 
produce  it,  when  justly  considered.  A  proud,  vain, 
conceited  Christian,  can  have  no  experience  of 
Christianity.  He  may  have  zeal,  he  may  have  the 
sentiment  of  religion;  but  the  faith,  the  principles — 
the  bones  of  the  system — he  has  little  relish  for 
these,  and  there  is  a  chance  that  he  may  have  little 
charity  for  those  who  have.  The  humble  man  is 
not  likely  to  attempt  any  thing  in  his  own  strength, 
and  is  never  so  well  pleased  as  when  he  best  knows 
that  God  does  all  things  for  him.  He  thinks  not  to 
pray  without  the  Spirit,  not  to  speak  advisedly  with- 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  273 

out  him,  not  to  resist  temptation  without  him,  not  to 
understand  the  Scriptures  without  him,  and  of  course 
continues  humble;  he  has  nothing  to  exalt  himself, 
though  God  is  greatly  exalted  in  him  and  he  in 
God. 

When  we  can  invent  or  conceive  any  possible 
plan  whereby  the  corruption  of  our  nature  can  be 
met  and  overcome  in  a  way  more  rational,  more 
comprehensible,  more  easy  of  belief,  than  it  is  by 
that  of  the  gospel,  we  may  venture  to  discredit  and 
reject  this ;  but,  till  then,  we  can  scarcely  give 
stronger  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  than 
by  our  indifference  or  opposition  to  this.  The 
Scriptures  do  not  presume  that  we  will  act  with 
reason  on  this  subject,  though  they  leave  us  without 
excuse  for  not  acting  so.  They  are  so  ordered,  and 
the  scheme  of  divine  grace  has  such  depth  of  wis- 
dom in  it,  and  proceeds  upon  such  a  foresight  of 
what  our  nature  is,  as  that,  when  we  come  to  a  right 
mind,  (a  mind  that  perceives  the  truth  without  any 
bias  from  an  evil  heart,  or  in  spite  of  such  bias,)  and 
come  to  this  mind  we  must,  nothing  shall  appear  so 
irrational,  and,  if  we  could  doubt  then,  so  incredible,  as 
the  difficulties  we  now  make  with  religion,  especially 
with  the  method  of  our  deliverance  from  the  curse  and 
the  dominion  of  sin.  One  would  think  indeed  that  we 
must  be  affectedly  blind  and  stupid,  or  wantonly  indo- 


274  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

lent  and  thoughtless,  or  frowardly  vain  and  perverse, 
to  stick  at  this  doctrine,  and  not  see  in  the  adaptation 
of  all  its  parts  and  agencies  to  our  nature  and  to 
the  accomplishment  of  the  ends  it  proposes,  the  most 
convincing  evidence  of  its  truth,  and  of  that  our 
great  necessity  which  it  comes  to  relieve.  Men,  who 
trouble  themselves  with  this  doctrine  as  presented 
in  the  Scriptures,  or  who  do  not  trouble  themselves 
to  know  and  understand  it,  and  therefore,  in  either 
case,  virtually  discredit  it,  discrediting  their  need  of 
it,  and  actually  reject  it,  not  complying  with  its  con- 
ditions, believe  that  there  is  a  God,  that  goodness 
is  one  of  his  principal  attributes,  that  he  has  a  special 
regard  to  man  as  one  of  his  noblest  creatures,  and 
capable  of  knowing  and  judging  of  his  dispensa- 
tions, and  would  believe  as  much  as  this,  if  God  had 
not  revealed  it,  because  their  reason  would  collect 
it  from  observation  of  notorious  and  otherwise  un- 
accountable appearances  in  nature  and  providence; 
and,  therefore,  if  they  do  not  doubt  the  sinfulness  and 
misery  of  their  state,  nor  doubt  that  God  will  show 
mercy  to  sinners,  it  is  singular  that  their  reason 
should  not  close  with  the  doctrine  of  his  grace  as 
the  only  relief  which  it  is  reasonable  to  conceive; 
for  if  any  relief  be  admissible,  (and  men  who  slight 
this  doctrine  always  expect  it  in  some  way,)  and 
God  has  made  known  no  other  way  of  granting  it, 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  275 

reason,  left  to  itself,  and  comparing  and  weighing 
things  to  be  believed  with  things  known,  would  infer 
that  this  is  indeed  God's  method,  and  that,  as  coming 
from  him,  it  must  be  a  wise,  benevolent,  and  un- 
changeable one,  suited,  in  all  respects,  to  its  end, 
(  even  our  salvation.'  And  our  reason  seems  to  be 
treated  and  addressed  as  having  this  responsibility 
and  capacity  of  judging  in  the  case.  The  appeal  is 
strong  to  the  reason  of  man,  when  our  Saviour  says, 
'  He  that  rejecteth  me,  and  receiveth  not  my  words, 
hath  one  that  judgeth  him;  the  word  that  I  have 
spoken,  the  same  shall  judge  him  in  the  last  day;' 
and  again,  '  If  I  do  not  the  works  of  my  Father, 
believe  me  not;'  '  If  I  had  not  come  and  spoken 
unto  them,  and  done  among  them  the  works  which 
no  other  man  did,  they  had  not  had  sin.'  This 
language  implies  that  our  believing  is  a  thing  so 
reasonable,  that  it  is  the  most  unreasonable  thing  in 
the  world  not  to  believe.  And  so  it  is,  and  so  it 
will  appear,  when  'the  word  shall  judge  us  in  the 
last  day.' 

If  we  would  consider  the  system  with  half  the 
candour  and  thoughtfulness,  which  its  importance,  as 
concerning  us,  should  entitle  it  to — consider  it  in  its 
several  parts,  in  its  applicability  to  our  exigencies, 
and  in  its  final  result,  the  working  of  that  charity  in 
us  which  is  'the  fulfilling  of  the  law,'  and  which,  as 


276  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

nothing  else  does  or  can  do,  makes  us  both  happy 
and  deserving  to  be  so,  reason  would  at  least  carry 
us  to  a  faith  that  would  not  let  us  rest  on  other 
foundations,  especially  on  foundations  laid  in  the 
exceptions  and  fancies  which  our  corruptions  take 
against  this,  as  humbling,  or  rather,  as  exalting  us  in 
a  way  that  does  not  humble  God,  raising  us,  not 
bringing  him  down  to  make  us  meet.  "Concerning 
faith,  the  principal  object  whereof  is  that  eternal 
verity  which  hath  discovered  the  treasures  of  hid- 
den wisdom  in  Christ;  concerning  hope,  the  highest 
object  whereof  is  that  everlasting  goodness  which  in 
Christ  doth  quicken  the  dead;  concerning  charity, 
the  final  object  whereof  is  that  incomprehensible 
beauty  which  shineth  in  the  countenance  of  Christ 
the  Son  of  the  living  God;  concerning  these  virtues, 
the  first  of  which,  beginning  here  with  a  weak  appre- 
hension of  things  not  seen,  endeth  with  an  intuitive 
vision  of  God  in  the  world  to  come;  the  second 
beginning  here  with  a  trembling  expectation  of 
things  far  removed,  and  as  yet  only  heard  of,  endeth 
with  real  and  actual  fruition  of  that  which  no  tongue 
can  express;  the  third  beginning  here  with  a  weak 
inclination  of  heart  toward  Him  unto  whom  we  are 
not  able  to  approach,  endeth  with  endless  union,  the 
mystery  of  which  is  higher  than  the  reach  of  the 
thoughts   of   us    men ;    concerning   these,   without 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  277 

which  there  can  be  no  salvation,  was  there  ever 
mention  made  saving  only  in  that  law  which  God 
himself  hath  from  heaven  revealed?"1  Surely  reason 
should  be  carried  by  the  argument  which  Christian- 
ity contains  itself.  It  is  a  sun  of  unparalleled  bright- 
ness; we  have  no  beams,  and  we  can  imagine  none, 
to  match  with  it:  but  it  is  to  us  unbelievers  a  sun  in 
clouds,  yet  making  the  day  lightsome,  which  would 
otherwise  be  totally  dark.  The  clouds,  however, 
are  all  our  own, — and  if  we  would  steadily  apply  the 
piercing  eye  of  reason  to  the  great  object,  they  would 
soon  clear  away  and  leave  us  to  admire  and  rejoice 
in  the  surpassing  light. 

We  may  further  infer  the  truth  of  the  Christian 
religion  from  the  fact  that  it  represents  God  to  be 
1  such  a  one'  as  corrupt  men  are  not  prone  to  con- 
ceive him  to  be.  And  it  is  evident  it  represents 
him  to  be  such  a  being  as  he  is,  or  that  we  have  no 
knowledge  of  him ;  for  the  knowledge  it  imparts 
accords  with  the  best  knowledge  we  can  derive  of 
him  from  other  sources,  and  no  other  religion  teaches 
any  thing  that  is  consistent  with  our  ideas  of  his 
perfections.  It  alone  requires  us  to  honour  him,  as 
it  seems  agreeable  to  reason  he  should  wish  to  be 
honoured,  not  with  external  pomp,  or  with  the  sacri- 
fice of  human  or  other  victims,  but  in  spirit  and  in 

1  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  Book  i.  p.  265. 

24 


278  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

truth,  with  love,  adoration,  and  praise.     In  a  word, 
it  alone  represents  him,  not  in  the  moral  likeness  of 
man,  but  in  that  pure  likeness  which  it  would  con- 
fer on  man  as  unworthy,  and  in  this  it  is  that  the 
evidence  of  its  divine  origin  shines  most.     Other 
religions  represent  him  in  the  moral  likeness  of 
man;  they  ascribe  to  him  the  passions  and  the  vir- 
tues of  man;  and  it  must  be  so  in  a  religion  of 
merely  human  origin,  because  man,  in  the  darkness 
and  corruption  of  his  nature,  can  have  no  higher 
model  of  excellence  than  himself  by  which  to  regu- 
late his  notions  of  God, — and  because,  also,  his  con- 
ceptions, under  any  advantages,  of  a  higher  being 
than  himself,  will  be  modified  by  the  cherished  pro- 
pensities of  his  evil  nature.     This  truth  is  confirmed 
by  all  pagan  notions  of  the  worship  and  character  of 
a  supreme  deity.     These  notions,  too,  will  be  found 
absurd  and  revolting  in  proportion  to  the  ignorance 
and  viciousness  of  those  by  whom  they  are  enter- 
tained.    Are  their  employments  ever  so  unlawful, 
they  are  the  employments  in  which  they  expect 
to   engage  in  a  future  world.     Are  their   highest 
pleasures  ever  so  degrading,  they  are  the  pleasures 
with  which  they  expect  and  desire  to  be  rewarded. 
Are  their  religious  rites  ever  so  cruel,  and  their 
modes  of  worship  ever  so  frivolous,  by  these  their 
deities  are  supposed  to  be  delighted  and  honoured 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  279 

How  unlike  the  God  the  Christian  religion  teaches  us 
to  contemplate,  as  requiring  of  his  rational  creature, 
man,  a  purity  and  elevation  of  character  which  he 
does  not  naturally  exhibit;  as  making  his  supreme 
felicity  hereafter  to  consist  in  employments  for  which 
he  has  little  relish  here,  and  in  which  it  does  not 
presume  he  can  find  his  appropriate  delight  until  re- 
newed in  the  likeness  of  his  Creator!  If  all  religions 
were  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  reason,  like  so  many  sus- 
pected criminals,  would  not  this  one  have  a  witness 
to  the  truth  of  its  pretensions,  in  its  very  judge?  Does 
it  not  meet  man  in  a  condition  for  which  he  seems 
not  adapted,  making  provisions  for  its  evils  by 
presenting  objects  to  his  affections  and  hopes  more 
worthy  of  his  exalted  nature,  and  furnishing  the 
means  by  which  he  may  be  qualified  to  obtain  and 
enjoy  them?  Does  it  not  bear  witness  of  its  superior 
origin  by  making  the  God  it  obeys,  possessed  of 
attributes  which  accord  with  the  principles  of  en- 
lightened conscience — a  Being  such  as  depraved 
men,  without  his  assistance,  have  never  imagined, 
and  such  as  all  experience  proves  they  would  not 
'have  rule  over  them?'  Such  a  religion,  it  is  to  be 
presumed,  will  be  doubted  by  evil  men,  or  believed 
with  such  modifications  and  relaxations  of  its  de- 
mands as  will  make  it  virtually  a  religion  invented 
by  their  passions, — an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to 


2S0  POPULAR   INFIDELITY. 

succour  their  security  in  delusion  and  impenitence. 
A  religion  not  doubted  in  either  of  these  senses  by 
profligate  men  is  one  evidently  by  which  they  are 
approved,  which  neither  elevates  the  character  of 
man,  nor  seeks  nor  receives  the  smiles  of  Heaven. 
The  doubts  of  such  men,  with  regard  to  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  justify  the  presumption  that  its  origin 
is  divine.  But  reason  approves  the  voice  of  reve- 
lation which  calls  upon  them  to  believe  that  their 
infidelity  is  the  offspring  of  guilt.  The  more  the 
religion  they  doubt  is  investigated,  the  more  will  its 
evidences,  its  beauties,  and  hidden  wonders  be  un- 
folded ;  but  the  contrary  is  true  with  respect  to 
every  other.  This,  too,  covets  their  closest  observa- 
tion— it  lightens  through  universal  nature — it  comes 
to  them  in  the  attire  of  heavenly  peace — it  appeals 
to  their  fears  in  thunders,  and  to  their  kindly  sym- 
pathies in  the  accents  of  love — and  all  to  awaken 
their  attention  and  gain  their  heart. 

We  think,  then,  that  the  contrariety  of  human 
character  to  the  demands  of  the  Christian  religion,  is 
just  what  we  should  expect  from  a  system  proposing 
the  elevation  of  man,  and  bringing  against  him  the 
charge  of  guilt.  No  wonder,  indeed,  that  we  see 
the  rule  of  its  estimation  differing  from  that  of  man; 
if  it  were  not  so,  it  would  command  little  reverence 
from  him,  and  he  would  turn  it  off  as  impertinent  to 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  281 

his  wants,  and  as  incompetent  to  the  task  of  con- 
vincing him  of  his  guilt,  or  of  delivering  him  from 
it,  should  he  be  convinced.  Still,  as  it  is,  it  is  not  as 
he  would  have  it,  and  clearly  not  as  he  would  have 
made  it — but  in  this  consists  both  its  worthiness  of 
God,  and  its  suitableness  to  man.  Our  exception  to 
it,  is  but  a  plea  in  behalf  of  ourselves,  a  vindication  of 
our  sins,  a  calling  in  question  of  the  wisdom  of  God 
in  a  way  that  does  both  prove  it,  and  our  incapacity  of 
judging  in  the  case.  Both  our  complaints  against 
the  system,  and  our  misconceptions  of  it,  may  be 
safely  understood  to  presume  its  truth — the  one  as 
arguing  our  guilt,  and  therefore  our  duty  to  comply 
with  it,  and  our  need  of  the  relief  it  brings — the 
other,  yea  both  as  proving  its  excellency  to  be  above 
our  experience  and  taste,  and  therefore  above  our 
understanding,  and  worthy  of  the  divine  descent 
which  it  claims. 

Now,  when  we  find  that  all  other  systems  of 
religion  are  like  ourselves,  and  therefore  needing 
that  which  we  need — are  but  the  shows  of  the  things, 
not  the  things  themselves,  which  are  necessary  to 
bring  us  relief,  it  should  not  be  an  inconsiderable  or 
vain  thing  with  us,  that  we  find  Christianity,  when 
contrasted  with  the  developements  of  our  fallen 
nature  and   with  our  felt  necessities,  a  system   so 

agreeable  to  our  reason,  that  it  must  own  itself  baf 
24* 


282  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

fled  in  every  argument  against  it,  and  so  replete  with 
the  knowledge  of  ourselves,  that  it  seems  to  'tell  us 
all  things  that  ever  we  did,'  and  to  require  of  us  all 
that  our  conscience  had,  as  it  were,  before  suspected 
to  be  our  duty.  We  are  rational  creatures;  and  how 
shall  we  answer  it  to  ourselves,  and  to  God  who  gave 
us  our  reason,  and  speaks  to  it  'as  no  man  ever  spoke,' 
and  therefore  so,  that  we  must  needs  know  it  is  him- 
self and  not  another,  how  shall  we  answer  it,  if  we 
do  not  act  rationally  on  this  the  subject  most  worthy 
of  the  homage  of  our  reason,  and  disclosing  to  us 
objects  of  affection  and  hope  which  should  bear  us 
above  all  the  difficulties  sense  and  matter  oppose  to 
our  faith?  As  that  which  is  rooted  in  the  prophecies, 
has  its  full  blossom  in  the  gospel,  and  becomes  thence 
the  greatest  of  trees,  and  is  dropping  in  abundance 
the  richest  of  fruits,  so  doctrines  carrying  in  them 
so  bright  a  divinity,  that  our  words  of  exception, 
like  the  scoffs  of  old,  'Behold  your  king,'  'This  is 
the  king  of  the  Jews,'  do  indeed  speak  the  truth 
which  they  mean  not — doctrines  so  proportioned  to 
our  reason,  so  rooted  therein,  that  there  can  be  no 
reason  but  in  believing  them — should  have  a  full 
bloom  in  our  faith,  and  bring  forth  onward  '  sixty' 
and  a  'hundred-fold'  of  fruit, — making  us,  not  the 
dry  limbs,  not  the  adhering  moss  that  has  a  life  from 
it,  though  not  assimilating  with  it,  but  the  lively  and 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  2S3 

growing  branches  of  the  ( tree  whose  leaves  are  for 
the  healing  of  the  nations.' 

When  God  so  condescends  to  us,  and  gives  us 
such  types  of  himself,  yea,  and  of  our  reason  too,  in 
the  grace  of  the  gospel,  shall  we  refuse  to  rest  our- 
selves on  the  bosom  of  his  promise,  and  look  further 
for  a  provision  that  suits  our  case,  or  further  than 
this  he  has  made,  for  a  pledge  of  fair  and  open  access, 
or  of  sweet  and  honourable  entrance  into  the  ever- 
lasting favour  of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do? 
It  is  good  to  think  often  that  we  are  reasonable 
creatures,  and  that  God  calls  us  only  to  a  reasonable 
service.  He  treats  us  as  wise,  yet  having  much  to 
learn,  and  therefore  we  may  not  presume;  he  pro- 
vides for  us  as  sinful  and  helpless,  yet  assuring  us 
of  strength,  which  trusting  we  cannot  fail,  and  there- 
fore we  may  not  despair.  If  we  have  not  faith,  let 
reason  exercise  itself  to  soften  the  heart  to  receive 
it,  as  wax  the  seal,  and  then  shall  we  know  what  we 
believe,  and  why  and  how  we  came  to  that  happy 
state.  If  we  have  faith,  and  it  be  <  as  a  grain  of 
mustard  seed/  still  well  is  it,  well  indeed,  if  we 
exercise  our  reason  to  give  it  an  intelligent  growth, 
a  growth  of  truth.  Then  shall  all  matters  between 
God  and  our  reason  be  evenly  adjusted,  and  the 
*  mountains  remove  hence,'  and  leave  us  '  strong  in 
the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.'    "  Implicit 


2S4  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

believers,  ignorant  believers,  the  adversary  may 
swallow;  but  the  understanding  believer,  he  must 
chew,  and  pick  bones,  before  he  come  to  assimilate 
him,  and  make  him  like  himself.  The  implicit  be- 
liever stands  in  an  open  field,  and  the  enemy  will 
ride  over  him  easily;  the  understanding  believer  is 
a  fenced  town,  and  he  hath  outworks  to  lose  before 
the  town  be  pressed;  that  is,  reasons  to  be  answered, 
before  his  faith  be  shaken,  and  he  will  sell  himself 
dear,  and  lose  himself  by  inches,  if  he  be  sold  or 
lost  at  last;  and  therefore,  sciant  omnes,  let  all  men 
know,  that  is,  endeavour  to  inform  themselves,  to 
understand."1 

Finally,  we  see  from  every  part  of  this  investi- 
gation, and  reason  teaches  us  as  much,  that  the  cor- 
rectness of  our  thoughts  of  God  must  depend  upon 
the  purity  of  our  hearts.  We  may  speak  of  him  in 
language  worthy  of  his  greatness,  we  may  be  elo- 
quent in  his  praises,  but  it  is  all  sound,  if  God  as  he 
is,  is  not  the  object  of  our  love,  if  there  exists  in  the 
heart  a  secret  repugnance  to  his  purity.  It  is  to  no 
purpose  that  we,  as  others,  profess  to  admire  and 
know  God,  if  we  are  not,  like  them,  6  partakers  of 
his  holiness.'  In  that  case,  we  are  like  the  wretched 
profligate  who  intrudes  himself  into  the  society  of 
the  virtuous,  and  affects  to  enter  into  their  sympa- 

1  Dr.  Donne's  Sermon  on  Acts  ii.  36. 


POPULAR    INFIDELITY.  285 

thies,  to  appreciate  and  manifest  delicacies  of  senti- 
ment he  has  never  felt,  and  virtues  he  does  not  wish 
to  possess — like  him  who  has  learned  to  pronounce 
a  foreign  language  which  he  cannot  translate  into  his 
own,  and  thus  reads  in  it,  without  emotion  or  under- 
standing, passages  by  which  those  who  hear  him  are 
moved  and  delighted. 

If  there  be  a  tendency  of  our  minds  to  level  down 
the  perfections  of  God  to  corresponding  qualities  in 
our  own  nature,  the  more  we  '  purify  our  hearts  in 
obeying  the  truth'  the  more  worthy  will  be  our  con- 
ceptions of  him,  and  the  more  will  we  rejoice  and 
( give  thanks  at  the  remembrance  of  his  holiness.' 
In  proportion  as  we  ascend  in  likeness  to  him,  we 
shall  think  worthily  of  him.  But  if  we  do  not  love 
what  he  loves,  and  hate  what  he  hates,  if  we  are  not 
quick  to  perceive  and  approve  the  manifestations  of 
his  will  and  perfections,  reason  adjudges  that  we 
take  heed,  i  lest  the  light  that  is  in  us  be  darkness,' 
lest  we  desire  rather  to  liken  him  to  ourselves,  than 
to  be  assimilated  to  his  perfections.  The  light  we 
have,  if  it  does  not  elevate  our  conceptions,  and 
purify  and  warm  our  affections,  is  not  '  the  light  of 
the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God;'  this  is  as  a  bright- 
ness from  the  face  of  God — a  sun  in  us;  that  is  a  fitter 
emblem  of  a  winter's  evening,  cold  as  it  is  clear — a 
moonshine  which  is  to  us  but  an  earnest  of  night. 


2S6  POPULAR    INFIDELITY. 

"  The  wisdom  of  God  created  understanding  fit 
and  proportionate  to  truth,  the  object  and  end  of  it, 
as  the  eye  to  the  thing  visible.  If  our  understand- 
ing have  a  film  of  ignorance  over  it,  or  be  blear  with 
gazing  on  other  false  glisterings,  what  is  that  to 
truth?  If  we  would  but  purge  with  sovereign  eye- 
salve  that  intellectual  ray  which  God  hath  planted 
in  us,  then  we  would  believe  the  Scripture"  protest- 
ing their  own  plainness  and  perspicuity."1  We  must 
look  above  ourselves,  if  we  would  not  fall  below 
what  we  are.  We  must  close  our  eyes  to  the  deceit- 
ful gleams  of  our  own  virtues,  and  accustom  them  to 
a  more  serene,  and  pure,  and  healthful  effulgence. 
We  must  kindle  with  the  discovery  of  higher 
glories,  pant  for  assimilation  to  nobler  objects,  and 
drink  in  purer  streams  than  those  of  earth.  We 
must  look  steadily  to  a  brightness  that  makes  glo- 
rious all  on  whom  it  looks.  We  may  be  overcome 
with  it,  as  Daniel,  when  his  <  comeliness  within  him 
was  turned  into  corruption,'  or  as  Isaiah,  when  he 
exclaimed,  <  wo  is  me,  for  I  am  a  man  of  unclean 
lips,'  but,  ( like  gold  that  is  tried  in  the  furnace,'  we 
shall  be  the  purer  and  the  brighter. 
'  Milton. 

THE    END. 


RECOMMENDATIONS.  3 

believers.  Every  kind  and  degree  of  unbelief  are  powerfully  assailed. 
The  secret  enemies  of  faith  are  dragged  from  their  lurking  places,  strip- 
ped of  their  disguise,  and  held  up  to  "the  light  in  their  naked  deformities. 
The  extensive  reading  of  this  work  cannot  but  promote  the  cause  of  reli- 
gion in  the  community. — National  Gazette,  Aug.  6.  1836. 

Popular  Infidelity.  By  the  Rev.  Herman  Hooker,  M.  A. — This 
work  supplies  a  desideratum.  Popular  Infidelity,  of  which  it  treats,  lias 
been  too  long  permitted  to  extend  its  influence,  without  any  direct  op- 
position from  the  religious  press.  Those  who  could,  have  refrained  from 
defending  "  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  Saints  ;"  and  Heresy  has  been 
permitted  to  stalk  abroad  triumphantly,  where  the  principles  and  doc- 
trines of  the  Scriptures  should  have  taken  precedence.  Every  Chris- 
tian— every  clergyman  at  least,  who  would  defend  his  belief — should  for- 
tify himself  with  this  unanswerable  volume. — Philadelphia  Gazette  Aug. 
8,  1836. 


Popular  Infidelity.  By  the  Rev  Herman  Hooker,  M.  A. — We 
have  read  this  book  with  no  ordinary  interest.  The  subject  on  which  it 
treats  is  of  vital  importance  to  every  class  of  readers.  We  have  seve- 
ral valuable  works  upon  this  subject,  but  none,  that  we  know  of,  which 
occupies  the  ground  taken  by  our  author. 

He  has  descended  into  the  dark  arcana  of  the  human  soul,  and  follow- 
ing the  intricate  winding  of  the  unbelief  through  all  its  hidden  and  unseen 
influences,  has  exposed  the  fallacy  of  that  popular  sentimentalism  which 
often  passes  for  religion,  and  shown  the  contrariety  which  exists  between 
the  professed  opinions  and  conduct  of  men,  to  be  owing  to  the  latent 
infidelity  of  the  heart. 

It  will  be  difficult  to  find  a  book,  that  so  drives  us  into  the  contempla- 
tion of  ourselves  ;  that  so  accurately  analyses  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
of  men,  and  so  vividly  exhibits  the  self-flattery,  by  which  we  cheat  our- 
selves into  the  belief,  that  we  reverence  and  admire  the  character  of 
God,  when  all  we  admire  and  reverence,  is  but  the  image  of  ourselves, 
which  we  have  contrived  to  ascribe  to  him. 

In  a  word,  it  is  rich  in  the  most  difficult  of  all  knowledge,  the  know- 
ledge of  ourselves.  It  is  full  of  thought;  thought  that  often  surprises, 
not  only  by  originality  of  conception,  but  by  the  striking  and  beautiful 
contrast  in  which  it  is  presented. 

Few  persons,  we  imagine,  can  read  any  one  chapter  of  this  book,  and 
not  wish  to  read  the  whole.  The  style  is  colloquial,  nervous,  and  an- 
imated ;  the  language,  in  a  high  degree,  Saxon. 

The  author  is  peculiarly  happy  in  his  citations  from  the  Scriptures. 
The  passages  cited,  not  only  illustrate  and  enforce  the  sentiments  he  ad- 
vances, but  the  manner  of  their  introduction  illustrates  and  enforces 
them  ;  so  that  they  are  seen  to  possess  a  charm,  and  an  extension  of  ap- 
plication, which  the  reader  had  before  failed  to  observe. 

We  have  seldom  read  a  book  in  which  so  little  could  be  anticipated. 
As  the  reader  turns  from  page  to  page,  he  finds  his  curiosity  continually 
excited  by  new  and  unexpected  thoughts,  presented  under  a  rich  variety 
of  beautiful  and  striking  illustration.  When  he  supposes  himself  at  the 
end  of  the  subject,  it  comes  up  in  a  new  light,  and  new  fields  of  contem- 
plation open  before  him. — iV.  Y.  Evangelist. 

Popular  Infidelity.  By  the  Rev.  Herman  Hooker,  belongs  to  a 
class  of  works  which  are  seldom  read  as  extensively  as  they  deserve, 


4  RECOMMENDATIONS. 

Its  purpose  is  to  show  to  what  extent  a  practical  disbelief  m  Christiani- 
ty exists  even  among  those,  who  living  in  a  Christian  community,  and 
committing  no  violation  of  its  external  ordinances,  believe  and  call  them- 
selves Christians.  That  this  adherance  to  the  form,  without  retaining 
the  substance,  is  too  common  among  all  classes,  is  a  truth  which  even 
superficial  observation  will  render  manifest,  but  which  Mr.  H.  illustrates 
by  many  well  chosen  examples.  We  wish  his  essay  a  circulation  cor- 
responding to  its  merits. — Commercial  Herald,  Aug.  9,  1836 


I  have  a  high  opinion  of  the  piety  and  the  talents  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hook- 
er, the  editor,  and  consider  him  as  well  qualified  to  conduct  a  work 
of  this  nature. 

SAMUEL  MILLER, 
Professor  of  Eccl.  History  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  Princeton. 

As  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker,  your  editor,  I  regard  him  as  one  of  our 
most  accomplished  and  intellectual  men.  Any  thing  that  he  adjudges  fit 
for  the  press,  and  any  thing  that  comes  from  his  pen,  has  for  me  suffi- 
cient recommendation  in  that  very  fact.  His  name  ought  to  be,  for  any 
work,  a  full  passport  to  the  confidence  of  the  public.  His  work  on  "  Pop- 
ular Infidelity,"  or  Philosophy  of  Unbelief,  one  of  the  Library  of  Christian 
Knowledge,  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  secure  him  a  high  and  lasting  repu- 
tation as  "a  man  of  profound  thinking,  of  very  great  logical  power,  and 
of  very  enviable  literary  attainments.  I  think  that  volume  alone  worth 
the  price  of  the  whole  set. 

HENRY  W.  DUCACHETr  M.  D. 
Rector  of  St.  Stephens,  Philadelphia. 

Charles  Henry  Alden,  speaking  of  the  Christian  Library,  says  :— "  Mr. 
Hooker's  original  work,  has  been  so  recently  published,  and  so  extensively 
spoken  well  of,  that  I  will  say  only,  that  if  a  man  desires  the  best  of  com- 
pany, in  which  he  will  find  what  will  please  and  improve  and  dignify  dur- 
ing his  reading  hours,  let  him  discourse  with  Hooker's  Popular  Infidelity." 

Rev.  John  Todd  says,  speaking  of  Mr.  Hooker,  "  That  any  work  to 
which  he  might  prefix  his  name,  would  be  a  sound,  discreet,  judicious 
book.  His  taste  is  correct,  discriminating;  and  his  own  pen  at  times,  is 
guided  by  a  hand  of  no  ordinary  strength.  Honestly  attached  to  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  he,  nevertheless,  is  so  endowed  with  the  limbs  of  a  man, 
and  the  heart  of  a  Christian,  that  his  denominational  habits  do  not  hinder 
him  from  appearing  in  a  workmg  dress,  in  the  vineyard  of  his  Master.  I 
can  sincerely  recommend  the  "Library,"  [of  which  his  Popular  Infidelity 
is  one  vol.]  as  containing  such  works  of  practical  piety,  as  will  be  use- 
ful in  every  family,  and  I  could  wish  that  the'  circulation  of  such  works 
might  banish  the  light  reading  of  the  age.  I  hope  your  circulation  will  be 
very  extensive. 

We  have  road  his  volume  on  "Popular  Infidelity,"  much  to  our  plea- 
sure and  edification.  Mr.  Hooker  has  a  clear  and  philosophical  mind, 
which  analyses  truth  to  its  simplest  elements,  and  presents  it  in  pure, 
plain,  Saxon  English. — Christian  Witness,  Boston  Avg.  12,  1836. 


Theological  Seminary-Speer  j-'j^'"* 


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